Survival
by Prudential
Summary: Spoilers: The Crucible ended the Reaper War in a blast that destroyed the ancient synthetic machines, severely damaged the Mass Relays, and shattered the Citadel. Though presumed dead, Commander Jessica Shepard—the woman who fired the final shot of the war—survived the destruction of the Citadel. Shepard now faces a galaxy in the aftershock of war, buffeted by a rising threat.
1. Prologue & Codex

**A/N:** Thank you for taking the time to read this story, and I hope you enjoy the direction that I take it following the events of ME3's 'destroy' ending. If you enjoy the direction the story is going (or don't) leave me a review and let me know! Additionally, at the bottom of this prologue will be a compendium of all the 'Codex' entries that come along the way as I post new chapters, for reference.

 **Prologue**

 **London, 2186**

This isn't London.

Sure, there were still enough people living here to call it a city, but this isn't London. London was a rich blue sky, the idle sound of a million others bustling around the city, from street to street and shop to shop; this isn't London. London was an abrupt rain storm during a summer's afternoon, the cool droplets of water meeting your skin as Big Ben's bells chimed gently in the background. This isn't London, but it used to be. The rich blue sky that once hung overhead had been swallowed by a sick black cloud, which stained any breathable air with the permanent putrid stench of war and death. Instead of the soft chiming of bells and the idle roar of people in the city, the only sound available to break the monotony of silence was the crunching of debris underfoot, and the grating sound of Big Ben's damaged bell tolling over a broken city.

 ** _God... they're all gone._**

 _Did we get anyone to the beam?_

 ** _Negative, our entire force was decimated. It's too much... we need to regroup... fall back to the buildings._**

 _Hammer's wiped out. all forces, retreat! Pull back! Pull back!_

Marine Gunnery Chief Clint Romez became suddenly aware of the cold sweat forming on his face, and shook his head quickly in an effort to snap him out of the phantom horrors from the night before. Hoping to anchor himself back in the here and now, Romez turned his head to the right and squinted his eyes until his helmet mounted light swept over the other figure he knew was there. A murky silhouette of a man, wearing an identical set of Systems Alliance Marine Corps (SAMC) armor to Romez's own, turned his head in kind to glance at Romez in acknowledgment. The marine was Romez's patrol partner, Lieutenant Richand Donnel also of the Marine Corps. The sharp angular design of his matte black helmet and its single eye-height visor meant that none of Donnel's facial expressions were available Romez, but he was able to understand the man's sentiment just from the jerking of his head and the slight sag of his shoulders. The Marines were given an intimidating and near-mechanical appearance in their armor, though any casual observer would be able to tell that the humans were growing weary.

The pair were half a standard hour from the end of their hours-long patrol, to which they'd been assigned only a day after they had fought tooth and nail for Earth's survival. It'd seemed like they had failed when Hammer Squad had been demolished by Harbinger, a reality punctuated by Coats' cold English voice as he gave the order to retreat. Just as all else seemed hopeless, Admiral Hackett's gravelly voice crackled across all Coalition lines, _this is the Admiral, we've got reports that someone made it to the Citadel. We need to give them time to get those arms open. All fleets converge on the crucible, protect it at all costs._ It'd been the message that they'd needed to hear and had been the last reserve of fuel for the Marines to dig in and protect Earth while whoever had survived primed the Crucible. And that was it, they'd managed to fire the Crucible and the Reapers had fallen over dead, as had their husks, banshees, and other thralls. At the time most ground troops expected the Reapers to get back up, everything the Galaxy had been shown was that it was damn near impossible to kill a Reaper, but the Reapers never again moved.

The Crucible's success hasn't been without cost, hardly the least of which was the Citadel that'd fallen from Earth's sky, cracking apart from whatever the Crucible had unleashed on the Galaxy. It was a sobering moment for all the troops on the ground, many of whom had been whooping and hollering in victory at the downed giants. The Citadel had been home to so many, and there was little chance of surviving what it went through during descent and impact. Still, Alliance top brass had assigned all non-essential personnel to sweep the wreckage, look for anyone who might've survived the harvesting, or the Citadel's crash. Initial disaster response teams had divided the wreckage into 15 'sectors' to make it easier to sweep, each of which was assigned an A-Z designation. Romez and Donnel had been assigned to 7R, but 8 hours of patrols later and it'd only been an effort in emotional exhaustion, sifting through so many corpses. Romez didn't mind the physical hardships or the smell—what really got to him was the sight. The countless bodies that were strewn across the rubble, the remains of shops, restaurants, or apartments that he'd seen aboard the Citadel, God forbid if he saw someone that he'd known in the debris.

As soon as combat abruptly ended, the reports began pouring in that long-range communications were out; later Earth's remaining forces became grimly aware of the fact that the Sol Relay had in-fact gone dark. It would appear that whatever was powerful enough to destroy a galaxy of Reapers and the Citadel had also damaged the Mass Relay network. Earth desperately needed medical supplies, evacuation, food and water for the survivors planeside, but without the relays, those much-needed provisions were going to take far longer, and the evacuations even more so.

The hour was nearing 2330 GST when Romez and Donnel were wrapping up their last sweeps of 7R for the night. The pair had moved to the edge of the sector where it bordered on the normal wreckage of the city when they heard a noise different than what they were used to. Snapping to his left Romez's M-8 Avenger was in his hand and pointed down range, its rail-mounted light illuminating the section of bombed out building where he'd heard the noise. **"Did you hear that?"** He asked over their squad-link to Donnel. **"Affirmative, Gunny. Suggesting comms silence to see if we can pick it up again."** Without another word, silence settled between the pair while they stood in the dark and listened, trying to track down the source of the sound. Suddenly there it was again, but this time they knew exactly what it was and it was coming far more common now. It was a raspy and wet gasp, intermixed with a fit of coughing.

Dropping his Avenger Romez burst forward, motioning needlessly for Donnel to follow suit, **"We've got a survivor!"** the Gunnery Chief shouted in surprise and fright. While picking through corpses had been draining, finding a survivor only to lose them would be devastating to the Marine. Still, his SAMC training kicked in and he felt his arms and legs acting without prompting from his brain, the muscle memory of years of service beginning the steps to field treat a downed marine.

As he drew closer he could make out a woman, dressed in what looked like heavily damaged Alliance armor, clutching onto another body. Romez began to softly talk to the survivor while he knelt down, attempting to triage the situation **"Don't worry, I'm here, I'm Gunnery Chief Romez. Hold on you'll be fine."** Were he in a hospital he'd be prioritizing whoever took the most attention to survive, but this wasn't a hospital and one survivor was better than none. With his right hand he managed to pull the woman away so that he could get to her, his left hand snaking out to find the jugular of the body she'd been clinging to—and though his fingers were pressed right where the jugular should've been, there wasn't even the slightest tremor of movement. **"DOA"** he pronounced, turning his attention back to the charred and bloody woman. Her entire left cheek was caked in both dry and wet blood, and the lower right part of her face was blackened from smoke. She continued to struggle out breaths while Romez worked her over, and though he wasn't a doctor in any official capacity, Romez had heard this kind of breathing before. He'd heard it in VA Hospitals, bedside as one of his comrades breathed their last breath from injuries sustained.

A sudden rage came over Romez, his veins aflame with heat as his blood figuratively boiled. In defiance of the odds that the universe had laid out before him Romez's hands began to move faster as he checked over her for identification and wounds. Whoever this was _wasn't_ breathing their last breaths, there was no way, _Romez wouldn't allow it._ After all this woman had survived in the crash, there was no way that Death could take them once they'd made it back to Earth. The 26-year-old Marine felt his right-hand glance across something cool, his eyes dropping to find a charred set of dog tags dangling from her neck. Scooping them up in his palm, Romez began to scan over them for identification. The side that was up offered a very simple identification, as all it bore was the insignia of an **_N7_**. Upon flipping it over, his thumb reflexively wiping across the metal tag to clear the ash and dirt from it, his eyes narrowed at the small lettering.

 _Shepard J. 5923-AC-2826 D.O.B. 2154_

 _SAMC Commander, N7; Citadel Council Spectre_

Was already feeling the shock set in, his eyes widened as he read the tag a second and third time. **"Holy shit…. Lieutenant!"** Romez's bark garnered the attention of the nearby Donnel, who had stood stepped into the open-air to call for help. As the Lieutenant ducked back into the makeshift shelter, Donnel eyed the wounded woman with a cocked eyebrow **"I got MedEvac on the horn, they're inbound two minutes. Who's our survivor?"** **"It's fucking Commander Shepard… she survived. ID the other body!"** Even while speaking Romez was working to unfasten Shepard's ruined armor from her limp body to better assess the nature of her injuries.

To his credit, the shakiness Lieutenant Donnel's voice was as best controlled as anyone, even the man himself would expect from a Junior Officer as he called back, **"Tags ID him as Admiral David Anderson, Gunny."** The news was a gut punch to Romez as well, and he remembered how sharply he'd barked out 'DOA' when they'd arrived on scene, desperate to save at least one of the two, only to now find out that the man had been one of the most revered individuals in the Systems Alliance. It didn't change how dead his body had been when they'd found him, but guilt still bit at Romez for half a second. He was brought back to their present situation by the snap of Shepard's armor finally breaking away to reveal her red and black thermal bodysuit below.

He could hear as he worked the soft hum and occasional jarring beep of Shepard's auto-medi-gel dispenser, which had already emptied whatever stores she had into the woman's bodysuit to be distributed to wounds, some of which Romez could see had been sealed. His hands softly felt along her sides in search of open wounds, which his left hand found as it settled on a slick patch of blood that had slowly formed a pool beside her. The Gunnery Chief was already working on applying the medicinal salve to her open wound when he heard a rasping sound different than the breathing he'd grown accustomed to. Romez looked up, his eyes shifting towards her face to be met by a pair of hazy blue-green eyes, weakly opened and looking directly at him. _She's awake.. how is she awake?_ **"Shhhh shhh you're alright, rest now you're alright!"** Romez softly assured her, hoping the woman wouldn't try to sit up and make her injuries even worse.

Despite Donnel's pleas with her, the rasping of Shepard's voice didn't stop until she was able to get mangled words out, **"Di… did we do it...?"** Romez felt pain shoot through him just listening to how hard Shepard had to struggle to speak, but he nodded his head as he kept applying medi-gel to the wounded Commander. **"You did it, ma'am. The Reapers are dead, we survived."** Looking at the woman's face Romez wasn't sure if she'd actually heard his words. As he was speaking her eyelids had fluttered and she'd slipped back into unconsciousness, Romez only hoped she'd found some measure of peace in that brief flicker of consciousness.

* * *

 **CODEX:**

 **DoCA:** Department of Colonial Affairs. DoCA is responsible for overseeing all matters relating to colonies of the Systems Alliance.

 **MARCOMM:** Marine Command, simply administration for the Systems Alliance Marine Corps.

 **SER:** Standard Earth Rotations, a way the System Alliance keeps track of date & time across their colonies / ships.

 **The Villa:** The training ground for "Interplanetary Combative Training" in Rio de Jeneiro. Upon completing the first wave of ICT an alliance soldier is deemed N1, and they may complete an additional series of training, most in zero-G or off world, to scale the ranks to N6. An N6 may then be subjected to actual combat situations as part of their training, and if they perform admirably they will be granted the coveted 'N7' designation. 'N' commandos are the highest level of skill and proficiency available in the Alliance Military.

 **Buffer:** The Master Chief aboard an Alliance Warship serves as the 'buffer' between the crew and their CO/XO, fielding personnel questions and concerns as well as minute and menial reports.

 **Rank Structure:** Note: while the Marine Corps are technically a part of the Systems Alliance Navy, they have been allowed by High Command to retain some traditional rank titles. Sometimes a rank within the Marine Corps can bear multiple titles, owing to the common marine behavior of referring to certain ranks by historical names of equivalence. Such can be observed with the rank of 'Chief', in that marines will commonly switch between 'Chief' and 'Sergeant' along with the appropriate prefix (such as Gunnery, Operations, etc.). This can also be seen with the rank of 'Lieutenant Commander' and its traditional name of 'Major'.

The Navy rank structure is as follows:

 **Officers**

Fleet Admiral

Admiral

Vice Admiral

Rear Admiral

Commodore

Captain

Commander

Lieutenant Commander

First Lieutenant

Second Lieutenant

Ensign

 **NCO**

Operations Chief

Gunnery Chief

Service Chief

 **Enlisted**

Specialist

Serviceman First Class

Serviceman Second Class

Serviceman

The Marine rank structure is as follows:

 **Officers**

Field Marshal

General

Lieutenant General

Major General

Brigadier General

Captain

Commander

Lieutenant Commander / Major

First Lieutenant

Second Lieutenant

Ensign

 **NCO**

Operations Chief / Sergeant

Gunnery Chief / Sergeant

Service Chief / Sergeant

 **Enlisted**

Corporal

Lance Corporal

Private First Class

Private


	2. Shepard Lives

**Chapter 1**

 **London-2186, Fort Endeavour**

 **14 Days post-Crucible**

The light was painful to her eyes, even as she tried to squint and filter it from her sight. As brilliant as the lighting in the room was, she wasn't able to make out anything besides a blinding white haze and the presence of distant shadows. With a long squeeze of her eyelids followed by a quick flutter, Shepard was able to clear some of the distortions from her vision and make out vague blurry forms, and slowly sound began to trickle in to supplement her sight. She could hear hurried bustling around her, as well as the soft whirring and beeping of machines somewhere near her. A unique movement to her right, one of the blurry figures drawing closer to her, garnered Shepard's attention.

The Commander attempted to turn her head to face whoever was approaching her and felt a jolt of pain shoot up her neck and through the back of her head, her head only turning a little bit. Instead, she settled for her shifting her eyes as best she could to get a sight. Though the blurry forms all around her were clearing with each passing moment, she still couldn't make out the tall one next to her—though once she heard his voice she didn't need to. **"You're one tough bitch. You know I gave the call for retreat when you and Anderson took that hit? I didn't suppose anyone could've survived it, and we weren't picking up anyone on the comms. You and Anderson pulled one last miracle off though and got that damn Crucible to fire."** The rough English voice belonged to Major Coats, and though she'd only known him a short period of time, Anderson had vouched for his abilities which went far in her book. She felt a warm hand give her shoulder a gentle friendly squeeze, a stark contrast to her cold pallid skin.

 **"Anderson?"** Shepard wheezed, her voice still hoarse from all she'd been through. Though Coats still hadn't come into full focus for her she could make out enough of his face to know that it wasn't good. She saw his lips, the rough shape of them, purse together into a thin line while he shook his head. **"He didn't make it, he was dead when the Marines found you… you were still clinging to him. You tried Shepard."** The news about Anderson, who'd always been like a mentor to her, pierced deep. She'd known he was dead as soon as he'd faded aboard the Citadel, but she'd drug him out anyways in a last-ditch effort to save him **. "What happened up there?"** Coats cautiously asked, his voice soft in case Shepard had a bad reaction to the question, **"Do you remember at all? The medic said Anderson took a pistol round to the chest, who else was up there? Who shot Anderson?"** Shepard just shook her head, turning away from Coats as her chapped lips frowned slightly, **"I don't remember."** Coats sighed, a disappointed sound with traces of disbelief. It was clear that he didn't entirely believe Shepard's amnesia, but he wasn't sure whether or not he could push it. **"Tell me whatever you will, Commander. Do you have any idea who shot Anderson?"** Gritting her teeth despite the pain it brought her jaw, Shepard turned her head as much as she could to face Coats, **"I said I don't know, Major."** With another sigh Coats nodded his head and stepped back, allowing Shepard to have some room to herself, **"I'm glad you survived at least, I'll leave you be, Commander."** With that, the English man turned on his heels and walked away from her bedside.

 _Anderson hung there, suspended upright before her like a puppet on an invisible string wielded only by the Illusive Man, directly downrange from Shepard's pistol. The Illusive Man was monologuing presently, but he had some kind of physical control over both Shepard and Anderson, and he'd already pointed Shepard's pistol—she knew what he was going to do. The thirty-two-year-old Commander was trying to keep worry for what was to come off her face, to show a last measure of strength before this man she respected so greatly, even though she knew Anderson didn't need it. He very obviously knew what was to come as well, and for one last time, he protected Shepard by avoiding showing any sign of such. Shepard wished that the illusive man had raised Anderson's pistol, that she wouldn't have to be the one to pull the trigger, but that wouldn't torture her nearly as much—and he knew it._

 ** _"…look at how much power they can wield."_** _With that, the Illusive Man lunged forward, his fist clenching in midair, and Shepard felt her index finger forced down until the pistol in her hand went off and Anderson grunted in pain. Even now, even after she'd just been forced to shoot him, there were no signs of disappointment with her on his face. There was no look of anger for her, nor sadness, only disgust for the deranged man to his side._

 _Anderson! Shepard cried in her head, wanting desperately to lunge forward and apply medi-gel to the wound, to at least try to save him, but that wasn't the Illusive Man's plan. In fact, the sadist wouldn't even let Anderson drop to the floor and die properly, instead, he was forced to hang there as he had before, even as his gut leaked blood into his already bloodstained uniform. Despite the cries of pain in her mind, and her desire to save him, Shepard said nothing to recognize what he'd just made her do. He could pull her trigger for her, but he couldn't make her give him the satisfaction he wanted. The only indication that Shepard was even aware of what her pistol had just done was a momentarily regretful look that she shot Anderson, before turning back to the Illusive Man with hate in her eyes._

 ** _"You were supposed to protect us… and you failed."_** _Shepard bit towards him, the hate in her eyes pure and consuming._ _ **"No! I am the savior of humanity… I am the pinnacle of our species!"**_ _The entire time the Illusive Man had been wandering in front of her, a pistol he'd taken from Anderson's belt in his hand as he grew more erratic. Finally, with his last words, he had pushed Anderson aside, clearly intending to kill Shepard, but the Illusive Man was no practiced killer. He'd spent most of his time aboard Cronos Station, telling other people what to do. He may have killed others himself, Shepard didn't know, but she did know one thing: she'd killed far more people herself than he ever could. Confident that the wounded Anderson was clear of any further shots, Shepard pulled the trigger one single time, catching the Illusive Man in the chest and dropping him to the floor before he had a chance to aim even properly._

Though her eyes were mostly closed as the memory played across her mind, she could make out another figure coming towards her. Warily she opened her eyes back up, half expecting the Major to have come back with a case of interrogation tools to extract from her just who'd shot Anderson, but instead, it was a familiar alien face, now in more clarity than Coats' face had been. **"Primarch Victus,"** Shepard said, her voice somehow conveying surprise despite how weak she was, **"I thought you would have evacuated the planet by now and returned to Palaven."** The turian shot her what she had learned from years of working with Garrus Vakarian to be the turian equivalent of a sad smile, **"I had hoped to do just that, Commander, not to say ill things about the beauty of your world. With the war finally over I only hope to see the condition of Palaven and begin rebuilding… though that has been complicated, all recent developments considered."** Shepard cocked an eyebrow at him, confusion clear on her puffy and bruised face **, "What do you mean… 'recent developments'?"** She asked, her voice hesitant to ask what the newest bad news could be. **"I guess you have been in and out of consciousness for two weeks. When the Crucible fired… whatever happened up there on the Citadel, the Relays have gone dark—at least the Sol Relay has. It isn't looking like our Relay is damaged, but we've sent a ship to Arcturus Stream to see if their relay is also out. If so… well, we're looking at a lot longer travel time. Right now communications are down, but,"** the turian held up his hand as if to wave off any alarmed outbursts, though Shepard was in no condition to make any **, "we know that Anderson had access to a QEC that he used to talk to you, on the Normandy. We're trying to track down where that ended up now, if we can get our hands on it then we can get a relatively quick status update. Until then…"** he just shrugged.

Shepard let out a long sigh **, "It doesn't ever stop, does it Primarch?"** The tall avian-like alien let out a soft chuckle while he slowly shook his head **, "You know something about 'not stopping' do you not, Commander? Ilos, you tracked down Saren and his Geth, with a single frigate, engaged them on the ground, and then used a homemade Mass Relay to travel to the Citadel where you killed a Reaper before we even knew what they were."** He held up one of his long talon-like fingers as if counting off **, "Or there was when you flew through the Omega-4 Relay, a relay that no one has ever survived a flight through and killed another reaper."** Another finger came up to count off Shepard's achievements, **"I won't even try to count how many Reapers you killed in this latest war, but I know you just survived a crashing space station."** The turian's head tilted upward while his last finger ticked off. **"I'm beginning to think they put something in the water during N7 training."** As he finished the turian let out another cheerful laugh, and Shepard decided she was enjoying this conversation far more than she had the one with Coats. It wasn't because the Primarch was reading off her accolades, she wasn't a narcissist, but he was cheerful.

 **"I had something that Ilos, Omega-4, and the Reapers didn't have."** Shepard returned with a slight shrug, her face wincing in pain as she felt the burns and lacerations on her shoulders stretch. **"Whoa there, settle down Commander,"** the Turian playfully chided, **"if you anger your doctors they're likely to sew you up backward. Now, what would it be that you had special?"** Shepard's gaze dropped, her attention fading to space as hollow sadness settled over her, **"I had David Anderson."**

* * *

 **Serpent Nebula-2186, Coalition Forces' Rendezvous Point**

 **14 Days post-Crucible**

The halls of the Normandy felt empty, despite everything in roughly the same places they'd always been. The Normandy's main deck, what Garrus Vakarian would always call the CIC despite whatever 'war room' or other fancy equipment they put in the back of the ship, was a cluttered mess of boxes and wires, and Garrus didn't dare move a single one of them. He'd nearly snapped at a Serviceman who'd drug one of the cords that ran across the deck's floor towards his station to provide power to something or another that'd had its wiring damaged in the crash. It's how she left it, he'd thought, it's what we've got left of her… her chaotic order, and her memories.

No one aboard the ship was without loss, though some of them felt it harder than others. Joker had hardly left the bridge since they'd managed to get the Normandy back up in the air, and when he would emerge his eyes were noticeably sunken in and dark. Whatever wave of energy that'd come from the Citadel as it broke apart, he'd gotten some feeling that it wouldn't just be bad for the Reapers, and the cocky ace pilot had tried to outrun it. He'd demanded that one of them, Ashley or Liara he thought, power EDI down and remove whatever power sources they could from her in a desperate attention to save the Artificial Intelligence that he'd fallen in love with. Even with his precautions, she'd suffered damage, and any attempts to switch her back on had failed, as had attempts to graft her processes into the Normandy's computers. In addition, by waiting as long as he did to leave the Sol System, he'd caused the Normandy to suffer the blast while in FTL, and it'd wreaked unknown havoc on their drive core. Miraculously Tali had gotten them back up and running in a week, and they'd only been a day's FTL jump from the Coalition RV Point.

If he were speaking objectively, Ashley had fared the worst in losses. She'd known Shepard the longest, she'd been the one that Shepard had fallen in love with, and in turn, the one that had fallen in love with Shepard. Sure, Vakarian had known her nearly as long, and there were rumors among some of the Normandy's crew that Vakarian might've had a crush on Shepard at one point during one of their deployments, but that was long past—and Garrus wasn't in the business of competing over who was in the most grief. They'd both been there at the end before Shepard ventured on her final charge towards the beam. Vakarian and Ashley had always been Shepard's preferred personal ground team, and he liked to think that it was because they were her most trusted amongst the crew, but perhaps that was Vakarian being a bit cocky. Garrus clenched his three-fingered fist in anger as he remembered his final moments with the woman, when the Alliance transport had been sent airborne, wounding Ashley in the process. He'd seen their redheaded Commander go up against hellish odds without letting even the slightest emotional compromise into her decision making, but he could tell that at that moment even she was scared. It'd been the most frightful that Vakarian had ever seen Shepard, when she'd brought the full force of all the emotional tension she kept locked away to bear on Ashley Williams, a normally otherwise stubborn marine, getting her to retreat aboard the Normandy. His grip tightened, his knuckles popping slightly at the tension as he remembered it, remembered the moment that he abandoned her. He could've gone with her, disobeyed orders for once in his damned life, and it would've saved her. He knew that if he had gone through the beam with her that she would've survived, but he didn't. He followed her orders, and he kept Ashley safe. Garrus looked towards a nearby wall, the momentary thought of venting his anger in a violent outburst against an otherwise innocent bulkhead flashed through his mind, but he thought better of it. Instead, the turian closed his eyes tight, his anger fading to a bitter sadness.

 **"Garrus…?"** A soft voice spoke from behind him, stirring the turian from his moment of contemplation almost as soon as it had begun. He'd been standing between Traynor's station and the Commander's old station, but he turned to find Dr. Liara T'Soni standing just outside the Normandy's elevator, clutching a bundle of paper in her hands, and tentatively looking at the taller man. Garrus let out the breath that he only just realized he'd been holding, and with sad eyes, he looked down towards Liara. Though the asari had aged while they'd known each other, her longer lifespan meant that she showed little of it as opposed to the humans, turian, and tuarian aboard the Normandy. That meant that she still looked near exactly as she had when they found her on Therum. Physically the girl might've been significantly Garrus' senior, but as far as the asari were concerned she was barely an adult—explaining the dynamic that she'd struck with the rest of the crew that made it feel as though she were the youngest.

Garrus suddenly realized that he hadn't actually responded to Liara, only turned around and sighed at her, bringing a pang of embarrassment to the turian. **"Err sorry Liara, I was lost in my thoughts… what is it?"** The asari's face had sunk somewhat in the long moment that Garrus had only looked at her, and he feared that she thought he would just blow her off. The recognition of her inquiry brought some life back to the pale blue skin of her face, and her soft dark eyes looked up to make eye contact with his. **"The Commander left this with us before she embarked for the final strike on the beam… she left it with me because I think she knew Ashley wouldn't ever realize that it was time to give it to you…"** Liara's gaze drifted downward and to the side as if she were avoiding mentioning how Ashley had refused to put Shepard's name on the memorial wall when even Joker had done so with EDI. Garrus didn't blame Ashley for holding out, putting her name on the wall would be the final nail in Shepard's coffin and it would be a difficult thing to come to terms with. At least Joker had been able to hold EDI's body and see that she was dead… or whatever the equivalent was for an AI. Garrus realized that her hand was extended, the folded envelope of paper in it, and she was waiting for him to take it. Vakarian took the envelope from Liara, his hand trembling slightly as he unfolded it and read over the sloppy writing across its face.

 _J. Shepard_

 _SAMC Commander, N7_

 _Garrus Vakarian_

As far as the face of the envelope went, that was all that she'd written. Garrus turned it over in one of his clawed hands, seeing that there was a bit of informal scrawling on the back flap of it and that the envelope had been sealed by the official seal of the Systems Alliance Marine Corps, with Shepard's own name scrawled at the bottom of the seal. Shepard's scrawling handwritten note read _"Garrus, open this when I've died. If you don't want to, then consider it an order—my last order."_ The turian gritted his teeth, his mandibles flaring in emotion as he worked to unfasten the envelope without tearing it—treating every centimeter of the paper as if it were a precious treasure. Finally, he unsealed it, and inside he found a small slip of what he was pretty sure was notebook paper, that'd been unceremoniously torn from some spiralbound notebook, folded twice, and shoved into this envelope—true Shepard fashion. His hands still trembling, Vakarian unfolded the paper and held it before his face to read, the envelope tucked between the last two fingers on his left hand so that it was out of his way.

 _Garrus,_

 _We knew this day was coming eventually, I'm just glad I got to retire first so I don't have to live in a galaxy without Garrus Vakarian. If you're reading this, some unlucky son of a bitch finally managed to put me down, note I said unlucky. If I didn't kill the bastard I'm assuming he's just found a place atop the kill list of the most dangerous Turian I know, just remember to duck. With that said, you're the sole surviving member of the Shepard-Vakarian team, I'm just mad that I won't be able to beat your ass in a rematch shootout on top of the Citadel. But don't you worry, I've made it to heaven half an hour before the devil knows I'm dead, and I'm sitting at the bar waiting for you—take as long as you will, I've still got your back._

Garrus could see that the paper in this section of the note had been bled somewhat, the ink running in every which direction, the trademark of a drop of water meeting the paper; Shepard had cried writing this. His chest felt like it was going to explode from the sinking of his heart, but he kept reading.

 _On the matter of the Normandy, she's yours Garrus. Whatever's left of the Alliance will probably have a field day with that one, but it's my standing orders for her, as the Normandy's commanding officer. If you have any problems with the Alliance get Anderson or Hackett, whichever one of them is still kicking when this is all over, to give you a commission, because I know one of them will make it out, and they owe my ass big time. I don't think a force on hell or earth could kill Anderson Hackett and me in a single battle. You're more than qualified for the position, and you know the Normandy more than anyone in the Galaxy, I know you'll keep her calibrated. The other half of my order is Ashley, she'll be your XO, and I need you to look out for her. Ash is a tough girl, but I'm sure she'll be going through some things about now… just don't let her do anything stupid Vakarian._

 _I've already made this as sappy as I'm sure you can bear, so I'll wrap it up there. You have a good life Vakarian, I'm proud of you and I know you'll be a damned good officer._

 _Commander Jessica Shepard, Systems Alliance Marine Corps Commander, N7_

Garrus just stared at the letter, his eyes burning with tears that he was trying his best to not let out. Finally, like a levy giving way to crashing storm waves, a single tear slipped down his angular face. That tear was followed by another, and then another, and another, until Garrus was able to finally will them to stop, if only momentarily, by digging the nail at the end of his forefinger into his palm tightly. Liara was still standing in front of him, the asari's face a clear mask of sadness and remorse. She slowly brought her right hand up to her brow, flattening the hand and cocking her elbow so that her arm was near parallel with her brow, in the closest thing to a salute the asari scientist had likely ever done, **"Commander."** Liara said softly, her voice close to choking itself. Shepard must've told her what the letter said or had left Liara a letter of her own. Garrus swallowed hard, resisting the urge to allow his tears to come back, simply nodding his head at Liara, **"Thank you Liara."** Slowly the asari lowered her salute, her arm falling back to her side, and slipped back into the elevator to give him some time alone. Garrus sank backward, his bony rear resting against the edge of Shepard's old console as his head sank down into his hands. Finally, his will gave way and tears came freely running down his cheeks, the turian not even attempting to stop them. Instead, he could only think of one thing, _Jessica... I've known her for three years, and she never told me her name was Jessica. She considered me her friend, her replacement, but I'd never even asked her for her first name_.


	3. The Path Forward

**Chapter 2**

 **London-2186, Fort Endeavour**

 **18 Days post-Crucible**

Fort Endeavour was small, Shepard had learned that her first few days actually getting to walk around the Fort. The 'Fort' itself was a more built up presence on the footprint of the FOB that she and Anderson had used during their push towards the Reaper conduit. As she wandered the Fort sights would occasionally bring her back to that hellish night. The Alliance forces in London had been slim since London was a strongly controlled Reaper position. They'd struggled to even establish this FOB that night, and the cost had been high. As her eyes scanned the surrounding area she could make out a makeshift military grave that'd been dug for their fallen comrades, and it was then that she realized just how many they'd lost. At the time she'd been close to point of Hammer's push through London, and though she knew they were getting slaughtered she didn't know just how bad it was. Shepard clenched her jaw, teeth gritting against each other in anger as she looked out over the torn remains of the city, and the sprawling graveyard beyond the Fort's walls. Her vision drifted upwards to see the broken remains of the Citadel in orbit, what'd managed to remain flying during the explosion. That she'd made it out of the Citadel alive was still surreal to her, though her body showed signs of the abuse that she'd suffered in the process. Her left eyebrow was split through with a long red gash that started midway up her eyelid and sliced straight through the patch of dark red hair of her brow, before tapering off into the pale skin above. Her right eye socket was a sickly mixture of yellows, purples, blues, and blacks from the bruising that it'd taken, it was a wonder that she'd retained sight in the eye. Just under her right eye was a curved stretch of raw, somewhat scabbed skin that hurt every time she blinked or squinted her eyes. Her lip had been cut open pretty badly and had been stitched back together to result hopefully only in a scar. Her chin, cheeks, and neck had a flurry of lacerations, burns, and bruises that only served to further affirm the hell that the Commander had seen during her fight to, and flight from, the Citadel, but the most obvious sign of her injuries was the stiff gait she'd adopted. The first day she'd been allowed to walk, two days prior, she'd noticed that her left leg didn't work like it was supposed to. She could feel the leg, but it only responded limitedly to the commands she issued it, and as soon as she'd put any pressure on the limb it'd burst into an intense blinding pain, which had subsided into a constant dull ache that still hadn't gone away. She'd been told by the doctor that they'd need to get her off world to begin work on her internal organs, most of which had been maintained by mysterious cybernetics implanted in her by Miranda Lawson during Project Lazarus. When she'd killed the Reapers she'd killed those cybernetics, and the sick feeling inside her combined with her poor field-lab results showed that their failure wasn't good for her. She wasn't going to drop dead instantly, but the sooner she could find a lab to figure out how Lawson had brought her back to life, and what the cybernetics had done, the sooner they could put an end to her decline.

 **"Hell of a fucking hatchet I stumbled onto back in the Verge."** The voice was old and gravelly, the tones of a man that'd seen his share fighting, drinking, and smoking. Shepard turned from where she'd stood on the wooden battlements at the Fort's edge, her eyes coming to rest on the wrinkled and scarred visage of Admiral Steven Hackett, the Commander of all Systems Alliance Military Personnel. **"Admiral."** Shepard managed a painful salute, her hand snapping towards her brow despite a jolt of pain that shot across multiple joints. She'd been urged by Dr. Jharn that she probably wasn't ready to leave her bed yet, but she was restless and going mad trapped with her thoughts. Hackett coughed a bit of a laugh and shook his head, a simple wave of his hand dismissing her need to salute. He idled towards the edge of the Fort's outer wall to stand next to her, his eyes surveying the horizon as she'd been, before his attention turned directly towards her **, "That is what they used to call you, isn't it?"** The old man let out a short laugh despite himself and motioned towards her with his head while he crossed his arms and leaned on the battlement's rail, **"Hackett's Hatchet."** He'd heard other names for her too, but he'd also heard of the reactions Shepard usually had when she was called those, the worst of which being _the Butcher of Torfan._ Shepard had seen a rough patch the first three years of their time together, and by all means she likely should've been issued a medical discharge due to the toll it'd taken on her mental health. She hadn't wanted it, had insisted that she be allowed to stay and fight, and a younger Hackett obliged. He needed a weapon in Terminus, and she was more than willing. A decade of age and experience later, he wasn't sure if he'd make the same call. Shepard stiffened at the mention of her work in the Verge, and the Traverse/Terminus border, a series of memories flashing behind hollow eyes **. "Yes sir. I'll admit, it's been a minute since someone called me the Hatchet."** He gave her a conceding shrug, **"It has been, what, ten years since the Blitz? Eight since we hit Torfan?"** Shepard was bitterly silent for a moment, her face a steel curtain, and for a second the Admiral began to think he may have offended her. She glanced down at her omnitool, her face going distant once more as she looked up, before affixing him with her hard eyes. **"Ten years, four months, two days since Illyria."** Shepard replied flatly, **"Eight years, four months, two days since Torfan, sir."** Hackett closed his eyes, shaking his head slowly as his fingers massaged his eyelids. **"You still remember?" "I'll never forget sir."** Her voice was dry, a pained hoarseness still biting at each of her words while her vocal chords tried to recover from a battle fought weeks prior. Hackett's steely blue eyes met her, his pale white skin only slightly darker than the aged white hair of his mustache and eyebrows **. "You did good work there. I know you've been told that, hell you've got a Star of Terra and a dozen other medals to prove it, but I'm hoping that one day you'll believe it before someone finally puts you in the ground."** Shepard only gave a slight nod of recognition at what he was saying. Silence passed between them once again, and the scar that stretched from Hackett's right eye through his mustache made him look like a phantom in London's waning afternoon light. Finally, he spoke up again, **"Do you regret it at all? All the work we did after Elysium, Torfan, the Perseus Veil, Shrike."** The Admiral didn't offer any indication that he felt an ounce of remorse for any of the names he listed off, nor the dozens other that remained unspoken. His face didn't show any signs that he'd apologize for the orders he'd given her if she did regret it, nor that he felt bad for anything that she'd done at his command. A slight curvature came to Shepard's bruised lips, a cold sight that reminded the Admiral of the 22-year-old Ops Chief that he'd met aboard the bridge of the _SSV Hyderabad_. She'd had cold hatred in her eyes then, and he thought he saw a glimpse of that shoot across her eyes. **"Not for a single moment, sir."** Her response finally came, dripping with ice at the memories that came back to her. She and Hackett had worked closely since then, but until now she couldn't recall a time that he'd brought up the Blitz, or Torfan, to her—probably because he didn't want to see the pain. The things that the two of them had done together were brutal, and some of the ruthlessness shown to the pirates bordered on unethical at best. Shepard showed each batarian stronghold that she breached the same courtesy that they'd shown Illyria, and each time it only seemed to please Hackett even more. **"That's what I wanted to hear, Commander."**

 ** _Elysium's Orbit-2176, SSV Hyderabad:_** _The young woman standing before him was of average height and a thin build, but not to the point where her Alliance Dress Uniform seemed clownish. Freshly minted-Rear Admiral Steven Hackett assessed the 22-year-old Ops Chief with his sharp blue eyes that he'd been told could 'cut a marine to ribbons'. Though Hackett was long removed from the days of crew gossip and 'scuttlebutt', he had a way of hearing some of the more interesting tidbits that passed around a ship under his command; some of it even amused the older man. Back to the matter at hand, his eyes darted across her from head to toe, taking in all that she had to offer and deciding what of it he could put to use. Through the thin shoulders, well-kept shoulder-length red hair, and sharp angular face he saw something more. Steven Hackett saw a weapon, a crude one, one without proper direction and finesse, but a weapon unlike any he'd seen in a marine._

 _ **"What is your name, marine?"**_ _The Admiral spoke, his voice drawing the attention of nearby sailors in the scattered duty stations of the Hyderabad's CIC._ _ **"Operations Chief Jessica Shepard, sir."**_ _Her voice was firm, but it was her eyes that drew Hackett's interest. Unlike so many of the young marines that Hackett had met in his time as a senior Alliance Officer, Shepard didn't show a shred of fear or intimidation. She was out of her element, on the bridge of a ship possibly larger than any she'd ever served aboard before a man known across the Alliance Military as one of the fiercest officers in the Navy. Her blueish-green eyes were hard as iron, but he saw something behind them, along the edges where the pearly white of eye met pale skin—a hint of red inflammation that was telltale of recent tears. The Chief had no doubt been crying earlier, perhaps as a reaction to the stress venting off of her now that adrenaline was no longer flowing through her veins, or perhaps due to the losses she'd suffered in the defense of Elysium; Hackett wouldn't' embarrass her by bringing it up._ _ **"Do you know why I've asked you aboard the Hyderabad, Chief Shepard?"**_

 _ **"No, sir." "It's because I'd like to discuss a future for you, a different path than the one you're presently on with the Marine Corps before. Walk with me Shepard."**_ _He beckoned for her to her to fall in step beside him while he stepped away from the bustling of the CIC and towards a stairwell that would take them deeper into the Hyderabad._ _ **"I read the reports of what you accomplished in Illyria, and it's my understanding that the only reason you were even on Elysium was that you were on shore leave."**_ _The Admiral snorted, a soft sound that conveyed amusement and impressment simultaneously,_ _ **"It shouldn't be any surprise to you that the Hegemony is sponsoring pirates, terrorists I call them, to harass our efforts in the area—especially around the Verge. With their support, otherwise small pirate and smuggling operations have become local powers, and they're just going to keep growing."**_ _With his left hand he motioned to the viewport to their left that offered a brief glimpse of Elysium,_ _ **"They're calling what happened here the 'Skyllian Blitz', and the Alliance is going to be doing a lot of very public grieving, posturing, and accommodating to draw attention from one key fact: we knew this was coming. Now we didn't know it was going to be Elysium, or that it'd be today, but we knew it was coming. The Hegemony has been irate ever since DoCA decided that they wanted to colonize the Verge. The top brass have been petitioning parliament for a green light on decisive military action for a while now, but there were too many scared old men, worried that the blood of another First Contact War would be on their hands. It took something like this to wake them up, and I've been greenlit to lead a task force in the Verge, and beyond if I deem necessary, to assure this never happens again."**_

 _The pair stopped walking as they arrived at a long stretch of bulkhead that'd been made into a viewport. Bulky strips along the left and right side of the observation port showed that there were emergency shutters that could seal it off in case of a breach, but presently the transparent panel allowed her to get her first full view of Elysium. Above the planet were drifting pieces of scrap and wreckage, some of it still venting stored atmosphere in a gush of flame. The planet below looked so peaceful and calm, its cities just twinkling specks, from this altitude you couldn't see the flames, the destruction, and the fields of dead._ _ **"His name is Elanos Haliat,"**_ _Hackett said, breaking her from her thoughts as they both stared out into space._ _ **"Sir?" "The man responsible for all this, the man that organized the blitz, his name is Elanos Haliat. He's a turian, a former member of the Hierarchy military before he was dishonorably discharged and became a soldier of fortune at the employ of the Hegemony."**_ _A cut of his eyes to the side afforded Hackett with a look at Shepard, and the Admiral could see the very carefully concealed rage that was burning inside her, only betrayed by the narrowing of her eyes, the newfound tension in her posture, and the occasional twitch of her face._

 ** _"If you'll forgive me for speaking bluntly, Chief, I see potential in you. You're a blade, minted by the Marine Corps in 2172, but neglected in its full potential. I'd like to turn you into a pointed weapon, one aimed at the Hegemony's jugular so that we can ensure that another Elysium never occurs. If you come with me, transfer to the Hyderabad, for now, and work on my task force I can promise you few things. Among them are not prestige, glory, or fame. I can't promise you that the top brass will give you the recognition or promotions that you'll deserve, and I can't promise that it won't be hard to sleep some nights, but there is one thing that I can promise you with certainty."_** _The Admiral stopped speaking for a moment, waiting until Shepard made the initiative to ask him what that was._ _ **"I can promise you that your leash will be as long as you need it, that you won't be bound by bureaucracy, and that if I put you on the ground everyone in the vicinity is a hostile, RoE be damned."**_ _Shepard turned her head to look at him, the briefest smile across her lips—not one of joy, anticipation, or excitement, but a smile of respect._ _ **"The last thing I can promise you is that we won't stop until you and I can stand over the Hegemony's corpse and know that we completed our mission. Now if you want to return to your old platoon, that's a respectable choice, Chief. I won't force you, and I won't stifle your career in retaliation, I leave the choice up to you."**_

 ** _"When do we ship out, and where's my bunk, Sir?"_** _A thin smile came over Hackett's face as he tucked his hands into his pocket._ _ **"We ship out as soon as the SSV Hong Kong can transfer over your belongings. My XO will show you to your bunk, Second Lieutenant Shepard."**_ _ **"Sir?" "I had the paperwork forwarded to MARCOMM as soon as I read the after-action report of what you did in Illyria."**_ _He fished a single gold bar out of his pocket and pressed it into the palm of his hand, then extending the same hand towards her to shake. Shepard grasped his hand tight, her fingers curling to take the bar once they were done. She pinned it onto the right side of her naval blue dress jacket's chest, removing the old Ops Chief insignia, and then the pair were encased in silence for several long minutes. Hackett allowed her to process all that she'd just been told and the changes that'd just taken place in her life, before he threw her back to duty. Finally, the Second Lieutenant's voice spoke up one last time, a cold steel in her words_ _ **, "Admiral?" "Yes, Lieutenant?" "You swing at the target, and I'll make sure they don't get up."**_

 **"How long have you been on planet sir?"** The Admiral turned back to face her, and it was clear that he'd been lost in his memories. **"A couple hours, with the damage done to the Relays travel is slow and arduous right now. We intercepted** ** _SSV Bunker Hill_** **a couple of systems out, they'd been en route from Earth to the Coalition RV point to get a sitrep, but there wasn't a need to spend all that fuel. We're working on ways to speed things up, and boost efficiency. As it is the salarians are saying they've been pouring over Reaper remains to see how they travel, given they were able to move from the Viper Nebula to the Local Cluster in six-months, including a stop to kick the shit out of the batarians."** Hackett smiled for a moment, despite himself, sparing no sympathy for the four-eyed aliens that he and Shepard had dedicated so much of their career to fighting **. "I've sent Admiral Singh with the** ** _SSV Logan_** **to Sur'Kesh to let them implement their prototype drive and see if we can't speed up time until we get those Relays back up and running." "What's our strength here, sir? I'm assuming you got a sitrep when you landed, and I've not been able to get around enough to figure it all out." "This Fort, Endeavour I believe they're calling it, is all we've got in the area. London was enemy territory two and a half weeks ago, and our troop numbers in the region were what we brought with us. The Fort is standing at about 350 strong. That's marines, sailors, SF, and all other personnel combined."** He snorted another of his self-amused laughs **, "Apparently Coats hasn't made it public beyond the Fort that you even made it out of the blast." "I'm not surprised. He was a bit pissed off the last time we talked." "Fed me a line about 'making sure she survives her injuries before we get the troops hopes up' or something like it."**

Shepard nodded along, her eyes distant and thoughtful at the shape of the galaxy. She opened her mouth to say something, and then closed it, turning her head away from him slightly to just look at the wreckage of London **. "Yes, they're alive."** Hackett said, answering the question she hadn't had to ask. The two of them had worked together for a decade now, and though he hadn't had the relationship with her that Anderson had, he knew Shepard thoroughly. **"** _ **Normandy**_ **crashed on an as-of-yet unknown world immediately following the blast, it seems Lieutenant Moreau was trying to outrun it."** Shepard coughed a slight laugh at the thought, and she could see Joker doing just that **. "Whatever that blast was, it knocked them out of FTL and onto some world near the Coalition RV point. The quarian aboard, Tali'Zorah, managed to get the ship operational enough to RV with the rest of the fleet."** That was when the Admiral gave her a more reserved look, **"They think you're dead, Shepard."** Shepard swallowed hard, her eyes shutting as she nodded her head. **"Comms are a disaster right now, and no attempts to hail Earth got through. I couldn't hail them right now to let them know I found you alive even if I tried. We're set up with a buoy system, but those buoys rely on the Relays to do the heavy lifting, without them its dead air. Whether we expand that system or not depends on how soon the salarians can get the Relays back in operation, they've already dispatched an STG unit to Ilos to assess how well the salarian scientists there are doing with reverse engineering the Conduit."** His expression turned a bit more amused for a moment, fixing Shepard with an almost disciplinary look, **"Cute move making Vakarian** _ **Normandy's**_ **CO, by the way. Do you know the depth of bullshit I received after I made that official? I had Officers I'd never even seen the name of sending me their feelings about putting a turian in charge of an Alliance Warship, let alone a** _ **Normandy**_ **-Class."** The comment was enough to turn Shepard's spirits, and she looked up towards him with an impish joy in her eyes, **"What commission did you give him, sir?"** Hackett's frown said he was unimpressed, but she knew it was a game the two of them played **. "What makes you think I gave him one at all, Commander?" "Because you thought I was dead too, and you missed me." "Lieutenant Commander."** Hackett returned dryly. **"Weak shit, sir. You could've at least matched my rank." "Who's saying I didn't?"** The quip was enough to shut her up, but not enough to wipe the smirk from her lips.

 ** _SSV Orizaba-_** **2186, Serpent Nebula**

Pain shot through Lieutenant Commander Ashley Williams' chest at the sight of the woman standing before her. Garrus Vakarian, now _Commander_ Vakarian, had been ordered aboard the _SSV Orizaba_ to receive the crew's orders, and Ashley had somehow, in all of the chaos, missed the name of _Orizaba's_ commanding officer. The woman was tall and stiff, her face sharp as though it had been chiseled from stone, and striking red hair framed the sides of her face as it flowed around her shoulders. Her hair was darker than Shepard's, and run through with streaks of silver, but that didn't affect the resemblance. Rear Admiral Hannah Shepard was the perfect likeness to her daughter, and the sight was not one that Ashley had prepared herself for. The last time that she'd seen Shepard, the woman's own red hair had not been on display. It'd been that hellish night as Hammer Squadron assaulted the Reaper beam, and Shepard had forced Ashley aboard the _Normandy_ at the last moment. She could still see the 32-year-old's face, fear burning in her eyes behind the scratched faceplate of her helmet as she forced Ashley into Garrus' arms. _Damnit Shepard I can do this!_ She'd shouted the words while the turian had hauled her up the ramp, but they still burned in her throat. If she'd fought harder, if she'd ordered Vakarian down, if she'd done a dozen other things than what she'd done, she could've made sure that Shepard got out alive.

That wasn't the here and now though, and even through her grief Ashley Williams was a marine, and she had a mission to focus on. She walked at Garrus' right-hand side while they approached the Admiral, and the closer she got the better she could tell that though the Admiral had put on a mask of neutrality, the lines freshly etched into her face, and the dark shadows beneath her eyes conveyed the horrid grief she was going through. This was the second time that they'd lost Shepard, but before there was a galactic infrastructure. There was Cerberus, as wicked as they were they did have near-infinite wealth and resources. Pain shot through her chest again, this time at the memory of how she'd scorned Shepard when the Commander had asked her for help following her return to the living. How much more time could Ashley have had with her had she put a little faith in her?

 **"Lieutenant Commander Vakarian, Lieutenant Commander Williams, welcome to the** ** _Orizaba._** **"** Admiral Shepard's voice was older and more mature than the Commander's, but it had the same firm sense tone to it, a tone that didn't demand respect—it expected it. **"I understand you served under my daughter both in the war against the Geth, and the war against the Reapers. That alone gives me an idea of the kind of Officers you must be, and that reminds me."** She turned her attention to Garrus, smiling a little brighter this time, **"Allow me to welcome you to the Systems Alliance Navy, Lieutenant Commander Vakarian. I can say without a doubt that you're the first turian to be given the honor… and might I suggest you keep a sidearm on you at all times, especially if you're to be interacting with an older Alliance Officer."** The woman chuckled slightly at herself, trying to make light of what was likely to be a tense situation for Garrus. Ashley understood that Hackett had weighed between suggesting Garrus seek a commission within the Hierarchy and giving him one within the alliance, and that ultimately it came down to the Admiral being a little bit more comfortable with having turians in the Alliance than he was with having the Hierarchy command one of their ships. The three of them, Vakarian, Shepard, and Williams now stood in the _Orizaba's_ fore-CIC, where it seemed Admiral Shepard preferred to spend most of her time. It was far bigger than that of the _Normandy,_ and Ashley briefly wondered whether she'd prefer the sprawling size and power of a Dreadnaught, or the close cozy familiarity of a frigate.

 **"We're sending you both back to Ilos, along with the rest of the** ** _Normandy's_** **crew."** The show of confusion on Garrus' face must've been clear to the Admiral, even through the species' barrier. **"Before and during the war the salarians were working there to study the Conduit, and all of the ruins surrounding it. From what we understand, the inusannon inhabited the planet in the cycle before the protheans, and their work is what finally allowed the protheans to build the Conduit. With the failure of the Relays, the extranet is down, meaning that I have no idea how far their work progressed, but it's pretty vital to rebuilding the galaxy. There's a problem though." "Isn't there always, ma'am."** Garrus mused **"It would seem so. The batarians were bitching for a spot at the table when it came to Ilos ever since we found it, and they'd tried to block off the Mu Relay a handful of times. We know that the Hegemony got its ass kicked when the Reapers showed up, but there were still a** ** _lot_** **of batarians in Terminus at the time, we even had word that the Hegemony might be trying to set up some kind of official proxy-capital in Terminus to better amass their people and power, without the attention of the Alliance—we aren't sure if they succeeded or not. All that said, we're worried that the batarians might try something with Ilos now that the galaxy is dark, and the other Council races are still recovering from the Reapers. If the batarians got their hands on the Conduit, especially if they could move it, it would put the Hegemony in a unique situation of power that they've never even dreamt of before. The** ** _Normandy_** **is one of the fastest ships we've got, and we've already plotted a course for you—Command estimates that it'll take you about two weeks flight to get there, but I've already got my engineers working with yours to take on extra fuel reserves so that you can make it there and back."** The Admiral's face grew deathly serious for a moment as she fixed Garrus with her hard eyes, **"Lieutenant Commanders, if you find batarians on Ilos kill them. That might not fit in line with Alliance RoE, but the Hegemony has never been anything more than a pain in our ass, and they've made multiple threats at Ilos in the past—don't give them a chance to accomplish anything that they're there for."**

The two Officers returned the elder Shepard a nod and a salute, **"Yes ma'am, understood ma'am."** Garrus voice rang out, calm but still very wary of what they were about to undergo. Two weeks' flight was a hell of a voyage, though Ashley hardly suspected either would be too hard for him. Garrus _was_ a turian after all, and their people were historically militaristic. Fourteen days in the Normandy with only limited stops to discharge their static buildup would be rough, but Garrus might be the least bothered by it among them — except for Joker, he hardly left the ship even when offered shore leave.

* * *

 _Definitions:_

 **DoCA:** Department of Colonial Affairs. DoCA is responsible for overseeing all matters relating to colonies of the Systems Alliance.

 **MARCOMM:** Marine Command, simply administration for the Systems Alliance Marine Corps.

 _Author's notes:_ I made a slight edit to what's technically 'canon' in the ME-Universe, particularly with Elanos Haliat. It's my understanding that Haliat was supposed to be a turian, his dialogue was given the pitch/tone of a turian, and really makes far more sense if he is a turian. It was just a mistake on BioWare's part that his model was a human, and on that note I'm fixing it for them here—not that Haliat is likely to get much time in this story, as we're post-ME3 and he's long since been dead, but I do write the occasional flashback as seen here. If I haven't already stated it, the Coalition RV point is basically the Serpent Nebula, where the Citadel used to be. I'm estimating that it takes about a week's FTL flight to get from Earth to the Serpent Nebula, since the ME wiki cites non-Relay FTL travel at ~12 lightyears per day, and Sol's radius is about 1 lightyear and some change. The math there isn't exact, but hey this is science fiction after all, and no one gives me an exact (or even rough) distance between Serpent Nebula and Earth.


	4. Past Lives

_**SSV Kilimanjaro**_ **-2186, Over London**

 **19 Days post-Crucible: August 30** **th** **SER**

The _SSV Dunkirk_ was a sight that Commander Jessica Shepard hadn't been prepared to see, though her reaction was one that the aged Admiral Hackett had predicted. As the pair drew nearer to the frigate docked inside the _SSV Kilimanjaro_ he slowed his pace, allowing her longer to gape at the sight. They were the only ones in the dreadnought's hangar presently, and the only sound besides Shepard's inaudible gawking was the slowed tempo of their boots against the steel decking underneath them. Shepard's eyes traced every inch of the _Dunkirk,_ from the lazy curves of the frigate's protruding wings to the lazy slope of its bow, and the all too familiar sharp lines of red, black, and white that were its paint job.

The sight brought distant memories to life behind Shepard's distant eyes, her features hollowing out as she relived a life long since passed. The voice of Kaidan Alenko reverberated through her mind, echoing as if in some distant corner of the empty hangar she stood in. Flashing across her mind's eye was the sight of Ashley Williams throwing herself at the marine officers guarding the troop hatch, trying to force her way past them despite her injuries, her voice hoarse from screaming. Then Jessica was standing in the Normandy's CIC, moving towards the bridge as fast as she could despite the explosions erupting around her, and the rapid descent of the ship into atmosphere. She was pulling Joker free of his restraints and dragging him to an escape pod, and then she was weightless again—turbulently falling towards death, her air leaking from a hole in her armor. An array of memories washed through her, all of them lasting only a moment of time but leaving her face pale and hollow. As the memories wound to a close Jessica Shepard was left with no doubt in her mind that the _SSV Dunkirk_ was a Normandy SR-1 Class Frigate. Her head slowly turned to Hackett, face devoid of the maelstrom within, **"How in the hell have I never seen that?"**

Hackett lead the way into the ship's open hatch, the VI's droning message about decontamination protocol serving as a background noise to his explanation, **"After the destruction of the original** _ **Normandy,**_ **High Command commissioned the** _ **Dunkirk**_ **to be built; both HighComm and parliament were rather upset about how much money we spent only to lose the ship within a year. By the time that Cerberus drug you back from the grave it wasn't finished, and you and the Alliance weren't exactly speaking often."** The door ahead of them slid open and allowed entrance into the strip of walkway that was an SR-1's bridge, **"By the time that we** _ **had**_ **finished building it you'd brought the SR-2 under Alliance colors, and the** _ **Dunkirk**_ **was relegated to distant recon operations against the Hegemony, and then the Reapers. I brought it with me to do patrols of our assets in the area, rather than waste as much fuel as it takes to fly the** _ **Kilimanjaro**_ **to each system."** He let Shepard absorb the explanation and snuck a glimpse of her running her fingers across the hull as she followed him inside-. **"Anderson and I had a running bet about which of us would get an angry vidcomm about 'ghost ships'."** A brief flare of sadness shot across the aged warrior's face at the mention of his deceased comrade, and as quickly as it'd come it disappeared.

Shepard limped behind him, her appearance sharply contrasting that of Hackett. He was dressed, as always, in the sharp blues and golds of a Systems Alliance Naval Officer. It seemed as though there weren't a single button, pin, or tassel out of place on the man's jacket, which only complimented the Admiral's stiff precise military gait. Several feet behind him was Commander Shepard, dressed in a black, loose fitting, N7 t-shirt, and a baggy pair of tan flight pants. When the pair had met the day before she'd been wearing what was left of her Alliance thermal underlay, still a fresh change from the medical gown that she'd worn for days, but a soiled uncomfortable fit still. Hackett had shown her some mercy and had sent an aide back to the _Kilimanjaro_ to fetch her some clothes, specifically instructing the man to get her his own N7 shirt. While it was oversized and poorly fitting she was still more comfortable in it than she would've been any other shirt. Jessica Shepard wasn't one to show off her achievements or revel in her ranks, but the familiarity of the old N7 insignia on her chest made her feel like things weren't quite as different as they were.

As the pair silently stepped through the CIC they passed by a duo of marines that'd been engaged in quiet but rowdy conversation between themselves. At the sight of the battered red-haired woman they both stiffened and saluted, **"Commander,"** said the left-most marine, his uniform bearing the rank of Ops Chief. Before he could be forced to find a way to introduce himself Hackett interceded, his eyes darting between the two and ending on Shepard's face, **"These are the two marines that drug you out of the wreckage, Commander. Meet Operations Chief Romez and Lieutenant Donnel, they'll be accompanying us on our mission."** Shepard warily returned their salute, a rare formality for the woman but one she felt necessary given their actions. **"Chief, LT, you have my gratitude. Feel free to be as you were."** The two marines visibly stiffened, their salutes bobbing a bit before they were lowered, **"Thank you XO."** While the marines slipped away from the two officers, Shepard closed the distance between herself and Hackett, **"Sir, what exactly is our mission. I followed the orders I received to meet you aboard the 'manjaro but there wasn't any description of what exactly we're doing up here."** Hackett motioned up and down her body, **"It's my understanding that whenever Ms. Lawson brought you back that she infused you with some sort of cybernetics. It is also my understanding that you've broken those cybernetics, a skill you have proficiency in. I'm going to have Ms. Lawson fix whatever she put inside you, or I'll send her ahead to prepare things for you in hell."**

Shepard suppressed a smile that threatened to cross her lips in response to Hackett, falling in lock step with him as best she could given her injuries. **"Do we have a location on Miranda? My contact with her has been sporadic since the mission to Horizon during the war."** Hackett nodded silently both in recognition of the mission she'd mentioned, and in answer to her question. **"Ironically for us both, she's on Elysium. She and her sister have been living in Illyria for several months now, though as far as we know she's unaware of the Alliance's surveillance on her. Unless she and her sister have packed up shop in the past three weeks then I know exactly where she is." "I wouldn't put it past her, but I hope for my sake that she's still there."**

* * *

 _ **SSV Normandy SR-2**_ **-2186, Deep Space**

 **24 Days post-Crucible: September 4** **th** **SER**

War was Javik's sculptor, and so long as he lived he would be prisoner to its design. That design was like a song with repeating melodies and rhythms, chords that Javik had felt play through his life and now felt once more. The human who had introduced herself as _Commander Shepard_ had fallen to the ruthlessness of the universe, and finally in her destruction she was freed from war's design. The loss of a comrade was something that Javik couldn't seem to escape, a feeling that had haunted him across 50 millennia, a feeling that ranged in intensity from the death of his race to the six members of his crew that he'd had to intimately kill in the Cronian Nebula. The feeling that simmered within the last prothean was different from past losses, as Commander Shepard had been millennia younger than him, someone that his mind had designated would outlive him. Javik sat alone in the small cargo hold of the Normandy that he'd taken up residence in, reptilian body pressed into a small aluminum chair. All four of his eyes were locked on the Echo Shard swirling meters away from him, and he knew what he had to do. His self-imposed duty was not something that he wanted to do, but instead something he felt he must do. On Earth, before they'd assaulted the Reaper beam, he'd told Shepard that he would return to the Cronian Nebula to end his life with the same blade that he'd used to slit the throats of his crew. He'd felt his story was over, as was that of the protheans, and when the Reapers died that his vengeance would be fulfilled. The decision had stemmed from reliving the memories of the Echo Shard once again, and with them the pain that he'd narrowly escaped. Already he was beginning to rethink that choice, weighing the sweet embrace of death against honoring his fallen comrade, but the duty he'd imposed upon himself made such choice magnitudes more difficult. The Echo Shard had been passed from warrior to warrior within the Prothean Empire, a relic that each owner could imprint their memories, experiences, and pains into to be forever stored. Javik had used it as a memorial to those lost in the war, touching it after each battle, each loss, and each kill. He'd imprinted his first fight with the Reapers in it, as well as the loss of his crew. Now, as the memory and loss of Commander Shepard burned in his chest he knew what he must do to honor the woman's sacrifice, even if it meant embracing the pain that he was running from.

He withdrew himself from his seat with a reluctant effort and stepped across the room. Already before he'd reached the shard's podium his hand was extended, preparing to take it into his grasp. Suddenly Javik was there again, under the warmth of peaceful prothean skies that he'd never see with his eyes. Memories came at him like a rapid-fire weapon, driving the soldier to his knees from the pain trapped within the stone. When Shepard had been here he had focused all of his will on maintaining composure, but now that the Commander was dead and he was alone Javik gave into the strength of the shard. Tears began to stream from each of his four eyes in silent sobs, but he didn't release the stone. Instead he allowed it to absorb his emotions and memories, to imprint itself with what he'd experienced and the people he'd met. He allowed Commander Jessica Shepard to find her place amongst the countless fallen the shard held memories of—to be remembered and honored forever in the unseen halls of prothean dead.

" **Excuse me, Javik,"** A soft voice whispered into the room, nervous of possible interruptions and cautious to not cause offense. At once Javik's four eyes shot open to stare at the doorway where Liara T'Soni stood, eyes pointed at the ground and datapad in her hand. His skin was already working to absorb the tears that had parted his eyes, leaving except for the slightest streaks of moistur **e. "Doctor T'soni."** Javik nodded solemnly at her, his left hand stretching to place the echo shard back where it had rested. **"Have you need of me?"** Liara quickly busied herself with stepping into the room and nodding, her eyes fixed on the datapad in her hands as to not look at Javik in this state **, "Uhh yes, I was just going to check if you would like to review the information that we have on Ilos… you once stated that it was a secretive research facility for your people and that you knew little of it. I am unsure how much STG has managed to recover in the ruins, and what they may have brought back online, but your knowledge of prothean society and their language could be invaluable to efforts in understanding the Conduit."**

Javik nodded at the girl and took her datapad. His fingers brushed against her hand as he silently took it from her and began to read. His lower eyes were fixed on the screen, but his upper ones stared at the asari **"Yes, thank you Dr. T'soni. I wish to see the Relays come online, and I will aid in what ways I can once we reach Ilos."** Liara nodded her head and prepared to leave the room before she stopped at the sound of Javik's voice. **"Ms. T'soni, may I ask you a personal question?"** Liara's head turned, fixing Javik with a slightly confused look that bordered on joy, **"Of course!"** She blurted, happy to see that the prothean finally took interest in her. **"During deployment against the Reapers I observed Commander Shepard and Lieutenant Commander Williams to have been in an intimate relationship, one of life partners rather than simply mates. However, your own memories with the commander are foremost in my passive sensory when we interact."** The prothena made a gesture to show he had meant when their hands touched a moment before, **"You bear the memories of an intimate and sexual relationship with the Commander as well, though I never saw such a relationship between the two of you while aboard the Normandy. Is this simply something I fail to understand about this cycle's mating rituals?"**

Despite her blue skin Liara managed to blush, her eyes flashing with shock before hollowing somewhat. She slid closer to the door and only spared glances up at him before stammering out, **"I—the Commander and I—she and Lieutenant Commander Williams were together yes."** That was all Liara was able to stammer in response to a question she had never expected. Behind her star filled eyes flashed the briefest memory of dimly lit fast paced nights years prior aboard the SR-1. She remembered the fiery feelings that she'd had for the Commander upon learning of her connection to the protheans, and how stupid she'd felt when Shepard had chosen then-Chief Williams over her. Javik watched as the asari's blue cheeks flushed with embarrassment, her soft voice mumbling half a dozen excuses as she fled from the room leaving Javik once more alone. To his credit, the prothean didn't stir from his stillness during the display, instead his mind was trying to decipher the asari's behavior now that he was left with more questions than answers.

* * *

 **Elysium-2186, Illyria**

 **24 Days post-Crucible: September 4** **th** **SER**

A life once lived was hard to shake, as Miranda Lawson was beginning to realize. For her, the past life in question was that of 'Operative Miranda Lawson', an agent of the shadowy Cerberus and fixer for the Illusive Man himself. For nearly two decades she'd lived that life, and in the process, she'd built her sense of being on a foundation of paranoia. That paranoia had served her well over the years, saving not only her life, but that of her sister Oriana. As far as all reason was concerned, there wasn't a need for that paranoia anymore. Shepard had burnt Cerberus to the ground, the Illusive Man was MIA and without any of the assets he'd had for so long, and she'd personally torn her father's body apart with the very biotics he'd implanted in her.

She was settled on Elysium now with her sister Oriana trying to build a new life for them both, one that didn't involve glancing over her shoulder and changing location every few days. Her first week in Illyria she'd noticed _them,_ the two men that would pop up in her peripheral vision. They were never moving, never looking in her direction or doing anything of notice. They were of nondescript build and appearance, and never appeared directly in front of her. As the days had passed Miranda had determined that there were several of the men, and even a few women, who could rotate in and out of the pair, but there were never more than two. She'd voiced these concerns to Oriana only to have the younger girl scoff at them and tell her to relax.

Miranda wanted so desperately to relax, but every corner of her mind was screaming for her to run, to hide away in some dark shadow of the Galaxy and not draw attention to herself. While she was with Cerberus she'd been trained in every way possible about espionage. She'd read confidential STG dossiers, reviewed the work of Turian Hierarchy Special Operations, and even had been taught by former members of the Systems Alliance Intelligence Services. That training was what had made her so good at her job and had allowed her to survive as long as she had after leaving Cerberus, and that training was telling her to run.

With a hard swallow Miranda tried to suppress the fears that welled up within her and carried her shopping basket across the bustling outdoor market in one of Illyria's residential districts. Ever since 'the wave' as they were calling it, quick travel out of system was extremely slow and fuel-expensive due to the damage to the Mass Relays; Miranda attributed that to Shepard. Whatever the Commander had done to end the war had also damaged the Relays, and whether or not she liked it Miranda was trapped on this world now. Elysium had fared somewhat lucky in the war, and though they had recently come under attack from the Reapers it hadn't devastated any of the major cities—yet. When the Reapers had come falling out of the sky it'd been cause for celebration, and meant more work to take Miranda's mind off of whoever was watching her.

When they'd settled here Oriana had insisted that Miri Chambers, the false name that Miranda had assumed, work in something that would utilize her talents. As she'd spent a good amount of time studying the Reapers for Cerberus, she'd decided that something in technology would be best for her—and falling out of the sky had come more specimen for her to study. Even now as she paced the busy market, enjoying some of her downtime, she couldn't help but fear whoever the surveillance team was. They were humans, always, which meant that it could be Alliance, Elysium Government, or some shard of Cerberus back from the dead. Each option brought with it different fears to Miranda's heart, none of them comforting in the slightest.

With a concentrated effort Miranda worked up the motivation to finish her business in the market. She'd been hovering around a small fashion vendor for the past few minutes, her eyes drifting from the flowing vibrantly colored dresses that hung on the back wall to the neatly folded pants of various cuts and fabrics folded on the booth's tables. Hanging over them were blouses of different cuts, each instantly receiving Miranda's seal of disapproval before she afforded them a second thought. They were stylishly cut, some offering tantalizing peeks at the wearer's cleavage, others clinging to each inch of skin while maintaining a modest coverage, and some still were cut off higher on the abdomen than Miranda was used to. She'd worn 'stylish' clothes before, but it'd always been for a mission, never on the job or in down time. Even now she was wearing a well-fitting pair of jeans and a loose black blouse that didn't offer enough of a glimpse at any part of her to make her stand out. Oriana had sent her to the market today with one task: to buy some article of clothing that fit in better in their new home. With a deep sigh she picked up one of the white blouses that'd been cut off only a quarter of the way down her abdomen, a pair of white soft-touch shorts that promised to cling to every curve of her genetically engineered body, and a flowing dress of thin blue and white fabric. It was what the vendor called a 'sundress' and looked too frilly for something that Miranda would normally wear. The dress was too flowing and erratically colored to be worn to any formal function, but wasn't so casual as to allow her to fight or move effectively in it—the dress was just a pretty and comfortable dress. Grinding her teeth together in frustration she fished in her handbag for a credit chit which she then offered to the vendor. _So many credits for such impractical clothes. Damn it Oriana._

* * *

 _ **SSV Normandy SR-2**_ **-2186, Deep Space**

 **24 Days post-Crucible: September 4** **th** **SER**

A blanket of darkness rested on the _Normandy's_ Executive Officer's Office, the entire room illuminated solely by the glow of a computer screen and the various pinpricks of status indicator lights from the electronics scattered around the room. The screen that Ashley Williams sat before cast a bluish-white glow on the Lieutenant Commander's face, making her seem even more ghostly and hollow than she did in standard light. The soft and flickering illumination found a way of highlighting each of the new shadows that'd formed under her eyes, as well as the wrinkles threatening to form across her forehead. The XO stirred from her thoughts and reached across her desk, fingers grasping at the glass she'd been nursing all night. Inside it was a sea of brown liquid, several half-melted ice cubes floating in the liquid. Alcohol was strictly prohibited on Alliance warships, but Ashley had always kept a reserve in stock for special occasions—though this wasn't a special occasion she'd broken open her stores.

Just behind the glass was a small picture frame of an old-fashioned design. Rather than a glowing screen displaying it selected image, Ashley had purchased a traditional glass picture frame and had put a printed portrait of the Commander inside. It was a picture of the two of them, Ashley and Jessica, embraced in a half hug as they both faced a camera somewhere on the Citadel. Both women were visibly somewhat tipsy, their bodies canted at an angle and mouths agape in the telltale grin of laughter. Ashley ground her teeth together, her eyes squeezing shut as she poured a long swig of the whiskey from her glass to her mouth. The liquid was sharp and bitter, drawing a repulsed grimace from the woman as she swallowed it down. Ashley didn't enjoy the taste of whiskey, despite her rough exterior, but she enjoyed anything that could give her a momentary reprieve from the loss of Jessica Shepard. Every stupid thing reminded Ashley of her, though she was hoping the third glass of whiskey she was on would help alleviate that.

A rasp at the door jarred Ashley from her thoughts and brought the tired marine's eyes to focus beyond her computer. **"Come in."** She returned, placing her glass back on the desk and behind her picture frame so that it would be less visible at least. In through the door came Natasha Arnette, 1st Lieutenant, N5, and member of the _Normandy's_ CIC Crew. The tall sharp featured blonde woman gave Ashley a crisp salute, nodding her head briskly to punctuate it, **"Ma'am, I was here with my latest reports for you."** Ashley nodded and waved her hand, a little haphazardly if she had to admit, dismissing Arnette's salute. The Naval Officer stepped across the room and handed a standard issue military datapad to Ashley. She began scrolling through the contents while Arnette narrated it kindly from the other side of the desk. She wasn't sure if the woman had seen or smelled her drink and was trying to help the Lt. Commander out, or if she generally delivered reports like that— _Shepard would've known immediately._

" **These are all my sensory reports from our latest drop from FTL in the Striato Sector. Our surveillance and E-Warfare suites are running at lower efficiency without EDI, but I learned a thing or two about surveillance and counter measures at the Villa. While Joker had us repositioning, I ran a sensory sweep. Doesn't appear we're being followed or that anyone took note of our presence."**

Ashley nodded along, scrolling through the itemized result of each scan and sweep, reaffirming Arnette's statements. **"That's good LT."** She managed, her eyes dully scanning over the page before suddenly regaining some of their focus and clarity as they darted to look at the Lieutenant. **"LT, are you telling me that you came all the way down here to deliver an all clear on something that none of us were worried was happening?"** A sly innocence came across Arnette's face, **"We haven't had time to properly designate a Buffer yet, ma'am, and I didn't think that Commander Vakarian would want deal with menial reports like this."**

Ashley shook her head, waving her hands to dismiss the woman's sly attempts, **"Don't you try to bullshit me,** _ **Arnette.**_ **You didn't come down here to deliver these reports, did you?"** Arnette's charade dissolved into a kind smile as she approached a chair that faced Ashley's desk. She motioned towards it with her hand and face, as if to ask permission to sit without going through the formal procedures, and Ashley met her with a slow nod. **"Permission to speak candidly, XO?" Ashley nodded, "Yeah permission granted, LT." "I came by to offer you a shoulder to lean on if you need it, Commander. We all took a hit coming off of Earth, but I know that you're mired down in some shit after we lost the Commander."** Her eyes drifted towards the poorly concealed glass of whiskey, **"I don't want you to think that you need to hide in the dark and drown yourself, ma'am. If you ever need company feel free to page me, you'd be surprised how long I can sequester myself away and talk about all-clear reports."** The last line came with a smirk, one that sent Ashley's numb mind tumbling. Natasha's soft face, sharp cheek bones and thin but muscular build was what Ashley's eyes wanted to rest on, even as she grieved Shepard—and she realized now that it was almost entirely the fault of the alcohol in her system. Though her final remark was likely meant as a friendly playful comment, Ashley's insides flushed with heat at what she couldn't help but feel was a flirtatious hook. She felt her stomach churn as if it was under a vice grip, even the slightest hint of betrayal to Shepard turning her whole-body sour. Ashley swallowed visibly, her head nodding in response to Arnette, **"I appreciate it LT—I might take you up on that."** The 26-year-old Lieutenant flashed her a soft smile as she rose to her feet and retrieved her datapad from Ashley's desk. Arnette was only two years younger than Ashley, and she had to admit it felt strange being in as prominent of a command role as she was given the only 2-year difference between them. **"Take the night off Na—Lieutenant Arnette."** Ashley caught herself, almost slipping up and calling the officer by her given name. **"I'll take you up on that sometime, promise."** Natasha saluted Ashley one last time as she stepped backwards, **"Thank you ma'am. Take care of yourself."** With that the Lieutenant was out of the door, and Ashley was left alone with her mixture of guilt and grief. _Damnit Shepard…_ She muttered silently to herself, _why couldn't you just stay alive?_

* * *

 **Codex:**

 **SER:** Standard Earth Rotations, a way the System Alliance keeps track of date & time across their colonies / ships.

 **The Villa:** The training ground for "Interplanetary Combative Training" in Rio de Jeneiro. Upon completing the first wave of ICT an alliance soldier is deemed N1, and they may complete an additional series of training, most in zero-G or off world, to scale the ranks to N6. An N6 may then be subjected to actual combat situations as part of their training, and if they perform admirably they will be granted the coveted 'N7' designation. 'N' commandos are the highest level of skill and proficiency available in the Alliance Military.

 **Buffer:** The Master Chief aboard an Alliance Warship serves as the 'buffer' between the crew and their CO/XO, fielding personnel questions and concerns as well as minute and menial reports.


	5. Familiar Faces

**Illyria-2186, Elysium Colony**

 **26 Days post-Crucible: September 6th**

It wasn't the first time that Jessica Shepard had been back to Elysium since the blitz, but that didn't make it any less surreal. Illyria was a beautiful city and a monument to human achievement in space, but she couldn't ever enjoy the colony. She'd been here a decade prior on leave, her entire unit trying to settle into a rare instance of shore leave when the blitz had begun. The city was a phantom of those memories now, she saw buildings that were still choked with black smoke in her vivid memories. A decade after the batarians had committed the most savage attack against the Alliance of its time and Elysium had healed—but Shepard still hadn't.

The skycar that she and Hackett were seated in was headed for the small housing unit occupied by Miranda Lawson and her sister Oriana. AIS agents had been tracking the former Cerberus operative since her arrival on world, and as soon as they'd entered the system Hackett had gotten all the information they had.

Shepard tried to lean her head back against the skycar's firm sea in an effort to find some comfort during the trip, only to feel a sharp burst of pain as the headrest pressed against the biotic amp at the base of her skull. She winced in pain at the contact, a soft yelp escaping her lips as she shifted to alleviate pressure from the amp. The flurry of movement attracted Hackett's attention, and she felt the older man's eyes come to focus on the dark scars etched into her cheeks.

" **Everything alright Shepard?"** Hackett asked, concern evident in his tone.

" **I'm fine… just, the docs on Earth didn't think to check my biotic amp when they were checking me out. It got busted up in the explosion and it's been on the fritz ever since. Hurts to put much pressure on it, I think it's got a short that's feeding back into my nervous system."**

The Admiral's attention shifted away from the Commander's face, now taking in the raised metal implant that protruded from the back of the Commander's neck. At the implants core was the cylindrical amp, its casing blackened in some places, and outright gone in others—revealing swaths of bright blue circuitry inside. **"Would you like some help with that? There was a time that I served boots on the ground alongside biotics, before I got old."**

Shepard coughed a startled laugh at Hackett's joke and nodded, her hands silently pulling her hair away from the base of her neck so that he could reach the socket easier. Shepard had always kept her hair cut to a neat shoulder length in accordance with Alliance regs, but when they'd brought her to Earth to relieve her of duty she'd allowed it to grow for once. Now her hair formed flowing locks of deep bright red, most of which had been pulled into a ponytail. **"Just take it out, the implant should self-seal its internals once the amp is removed."**

Hackett's hands began to work at the amp, one gripping the implant's socket to stabilize it while the other pulled out the damaged amp. With a mechanical click and the whine of micro-servos, the amp slid free. Hackett turned his hand over so that the amp rested in his palm and extended it towards Shepard for her examination of the blackened metal amp.

She turned the amp over in her hand, a low whistle escaping her lips at the extent of the damage. **"I always missed out on the pain from biotics, with my L3 and now my L5n instead of an L2. I remember Alenko used to look fucking hollow after he'd overdo it on biotics."** She tucked the amp into her pocket and reached for a pouch on her belt, only to remember she was wearing unfamiliar clothes and didn't have her gear. **"I suppose I'll have to do without my biotics until after Miranda puts me back together. I appreciate the help Admiral."**

" **You're a goddamn war hero, Shepard. You deserve someone to put you back together after all you've sacrificed."** The two of them sat in silence for half a minute, and when the Admiral spoke up his eyes were distant and locked in long passed memories, **"When the First Contact War started we weren't advanced enough in biotics to have any around. I remember when the Alliance started letting biotics into the military, High Command wasn't particularly pleased at the idea and there was a lot of fear going around. Hell, I was unnerved the first time I saw a five-foot-four marine that couldn't have weighed more than a-hundred-and-twenty pounds slam a batarian into the ground hard enough to break his spine."**

" **I wish you could've seen Alenko in action, sir. He was a goddamn weapon with his biotics, and he was a hell of a marine."** _Above that he was a good friend._

" **I know he was, Commander. If he hadn't been none of us would be alive today."**

* * *

A soft chime, different than those she used for email and calls, broke Miranda Lawson's focus on the pieces of technology before her. Anxiety began to well up inside the young woman as she pulled up her omni-tool and began navigating to the alarm. The tone emanating from her forearm-mounted tool was a unique alert that she'd assigned to a perimeter monitoring system around her family's new home. As the feed pulled up, Miranda hoped that she'd see Oriana strolling through the yard. She'd assigned the alarm to ignore the signature of Oriana's omni-tool, but there was always the possibility that the girl didn't have her omni-tool with her, or that it was acting up.

When the holographic screen materialized over Miranda's left arm her hopes of a simple explanation were dashed. She saw the grainy image of men dressed in black uniforms, helmets included, passing through her yard. As they passed out of view she caught sight of one forcing her home's door open, before her sensor was found and destroyed by one of them. _Shit,_ Miranda thought to herself as she scrambled to her feet. Ignoring any further research into the technology she'd been pouring over, Miranda grabbed her jacket and dashed for the door.

The drive from the lab to her home was a short one, Miranda had specifically chosen it over other potential employment options due to its closeness to where she lived. Even though she'd changed careers there was little she could do to eradicate the paranoia she'd spent a lifetime cultivating. She didn't notice any other skycars parked near her home, and all the doors seemed to be properly shut, but she could still remember the black clad figures converging on her house and shutting off her monitor.

While she slowly moved towards the front door Miranda drew her pistol, letting it hang by her side for now but making sure the safety was off. If this came to a firefight she would be ready to drop and laydown fire at whoever had invaded her home. The lithe woman pressed herself against the outer wall of her home and slapped the control hologram for her door with one hand. The door made a soft whine mixed with a contemplating chirp for a moment before hissing open and allowing her access. With a military trained gait Miranda slipped inside, her attention shifting across each room with her pistol following her attention to each destination.

She turned to the left, peering down a long hall with three doors veering off, one for her bedroom, one for a bathroom, and one for Oriana's bedroom. She was going to begin slowly clearing those when a voice spoke up behind her, **"Over here, Ms. Lawson."**

Miranda spun around as fast as she could, her pistol training on a man in matte black Systems Alliance armor. **"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about, my name is —"**

" **Definitely not Miri Chambers. Please step this way, we're not here to harm you at all."**

From a lifetime of doing this very type of work, more often in the other man's position, Miranda knew arguing with him would get her nowhere. Slowly she stepped towards him, following as he slipped into her home office at the end of the hall. Sitting behind her desk was not anyone she'd expected to break into her home, nor seek her out in general. Rising to his feet was the aged Admiral Steven Hackett, wearing the stiff dress blues of the Systems Alliance with gold embroidered across the uniform in various places to indicate his status as an Admiral.

" **Admiral Hackett?"** Miranda said, no attempt made to hide her confusion.

" **I'm sorry for the secrecy, Ms. Lawson. I'd rather not be seen in the streets of Elysium just yet, not until I'm done with my job here."**

"… **and that would be?"**

Rather than answer her with words, the Admiral nodded his head to the side, drawing Miranda's attention with it. To her surprise was another figure that she hadn't expected to see in her home, a visibly broken Commander Jessica Shepard. In her shock at having seen Hackett she'd failed to notice the crimson haired woman crumpled on one of her couches. Shepard gave Miranda a nod, and even now Miranda could see that her eyes were dimmer than they'd once been. **"Good to see you, Miranda."**

Confusion wasn't an emotion that Miranda felt often, she'd gotten used to having more intel than the other guy while she'd worked for Cerberus. Her genetic and cognitive tailoring often meant that she had the upper hand even without an advantage of intel, but not now. **"Commander…"** Miranda trailed off, her eyes finding each wound visible on Shepard's body, **"What are you doing here?"**

Shepard allowed a finger to trace each of the inflamed and gaping gashes across her face, while her eyes shifted to look at Miranda **"I killed the Reapers. The Crucible worked, but it killed everything with any kind of Reaper tech in it. It killed—"**

" **Your implants**." Miranda said confidently. She'd been at a disadvantage when she'd first found them here with no inclination as to why, but now she was piecing it together. She'd personally overseen the team that'd put Shepard back together, and she knew what they'd made those implants from. If Shepard had nuked every bit of Reaper tech in the galaxy, she'd doomed herself in the process.

" **Precisely."** Hackett interjected, leading Miranda to split her attention between the two of them. **"We're here to get you to put her back together."**

" **Admiral…."** Miranda trailed off, her hands raised in front of her apologetically. **"I'm not sure that I can do that… When I brought Shepard back, when the Lazarus cell brought Shepard back, she was already dead. There wasn't much worse it could've gotten for her, and we had little in the way of a shot clock. Until we had reintroduced cell life there was little urging us to be swift in our work. There was also no pain for the Commander to feel. That's not the case now though, she's alive. Even if I had the machinery to fabricate new implants for her, the risk to the Commander's life would be astronomical, as would be the pain."**

" **Operative Lawson, I believe you're at a disadvantage presently, you seem to think I was asking you to repair the Commander. You have whatever resources exist on this planet, or the** _ **SSV Dunkirk,**_ **that will aide you, but that was an order, not a request."**

" **Respectfully sir I don't fall into the Systems Alliance chain of command and doing what you're asking would be horribly dangerous for the Commander."**

" **As would leaving her as she is presently, Operative Lawson. I understand that you're a civilian, rather than military personnel, but I'm not going to take no for an answer."**

" **Are you threatening to kill me, Admiral?"**

Hackett fell silent as he stepped closer to her, so close that Miranda could see every twist and jagged veer of the scar that ran from his lip through his cheek, **"No, Ms. Lawson. Perhaps when I was a younger man I would have, but I've got far better methods of dealing with you, should you refuse. I'll hand you over to these gentlemen."** Hackett's hand motioned to the two AIS agents standing behind her on either side, more than likely the men that'd been shadowing her. **"I'll order them to take you before whatever is left of the Alliance Government, and have you tried as a war criminal for your past affiliations with Cerberus. If you're lucky, the Alliance will shove you in a dark hole for the rest of your life, but I wouldn't count on it—we're low on facilities presently. More likely is that they'll put you in front of a firing squad, the Alliance has a rather long dossier with the name of every human that's fallen combating Cerberus acts of terror."**

The silence that fell between the two raging titans was terse, each of them sizing the other up with their eyes. Miranda wasn't used to facing off against someone as stubborn and demanding as she was—not since she'd left the Illusive Man. She'd heard stories about Hackett and his refusal to back down, but to be on the receiving end of it was different. She turned her attention to Shepard, silently pleading with her to talk reason into the Admiral's bullish insistence. Instead, Shepard struggled to her feet and stood beside the Admiral, showing her solidarity for him. With a deep sigh Miranda shook her head, **"I'll need an operating room and a team of trained biotech experts, as well as the best surgeons available… and I want a pardon when this is finished."**

Hackett's response was a hand shooting towards her to shake, his eyes meeting hers. **"If you can save her I'll make sure you get whatever you need, Ms. Lawson."**

* * *

 _ **SSV Normandy-**_ **2186, Deep Space**

 **27 Days post-Crucible, September 7** **th**

" **What is this?!"** Ashley Williams' voice was equally raised and harsh, her attention turning to frighten a nearby Serviceman Third Class O'Connor. The tall brunette woman was standing just outside the main elevator that lead through the ship, from the cargo hold to the captain's quarters and anywhere in-between. Just outside of the elevator on the main crew level was a memorial that they'd erected years ago to honor the fallen that'd served upon the _Normandy,_ either SR-1 or SR-2. Most recently they'd tried to put Shepard's name on it, alongside Anderson's, but she'd refused to let them. Ashley wouldn't give up hope, at least externally, that Shepard had somehow survived Earth. Now, staring her in the face was _Commander J. Shepard_ on the wall, a cold unmoving reminder that Shepard was dead no matter how she felt about it.

The serviceman, realizing suddenly that the question had been aimed at him, began to stammer, **"I… uh… I.. I didn't… I'm sorry ma'am I didn't put anything up there… or err ah I didn't take anything off? I—"**

" **I did."**

The voice was soft and harmonious but strikingly familiar. Ashley turned and began boring into Liara T'Soni with her eyes, the heat radiating from her enough to warm a frozen world. **"You** _ **what**_ **?"** Ashley snapped at her, her finger stabbing at Shepard's name on the wall.

" **She was our Captain, Commander Williams, and she was our friend. No matter how bitter the pain is, Shepard deserves to be honored in death as she gave her life to save us."**

Ashley drew herself up to full height, about to lay into the asari woman before a voice cut her off. **"Ashley, enough."** The voice was gravely, both high and low pitched at the same time with resonating sub-harmonics that refused to leave any room for doubt that it was an order, not a suggestion. Ashley turned to see Garrus Vakarian standing to her left, his scarred face striking in this light and his mandibles twisted into what was certainly a frown. **"Liara had my permission to do so. The Commander died, no matter how we feel about it. It brings solace to the crew."**

Ashley jerked away from the pair of them and stormed towards her cabin, leaving a very startled and uncomfortable Serviceman O'Donnel in her wake, as well as a visibly tense Garrus Vakarian. The latter said no more, and instead shot a compassionate look towards Liara who looked drained by the exchange.

Behind the elevator was Natasha Arnette, seated in the deck's dining area alongside her fellow cremates PFC Bethany 'Grease' Westmoreland, PFC Sarah Campbell, and Corporal Cyzilie Worbaar, the latter of whom was also surfing one handed through a datapad for any emails or articles that interested her. Her speech garbled by mouthfuls of the thick 'soup', Worbaar looked partially up towards where Arnette was seated, **"Y'know the worst fuckin' thing about this bullshit with the relays? We don't get shit for extranet** _ **anywhere.**_ **"**

Campbell snorted between mouthfuls and looked over towards Worlaan, **"I can barely even tell what you're saying Cyzilie, try fuckin' swallowing first."**

Without even focusing on it, Worbaar's hand twisted into a raised middle finger at Cambell, **"Wouldn't know the first thing about swallowing, I swing for the other team. Figured you'd know a thing or two about that since you 'n' Grease are bunk buddies."** The two privates were responsible for guarding the _Normandy's_ war deck, and typically served long shifts together doing so. Even when they weren't guarding the ship they would spend time together, as the hours of guard duty had forged a strong friendship. With little else to do on long voyages through space, their fellow marines hadn't even attempted to restrain themselves from making leering jokes about the two women being lesbians.

" **Fuck off."** Was all Westmoreland had to say for herself, her eyes rolled back into her head while she too shoveled the lukewarm food into her mouth. The PFC had earned her nickname due to her obsession with polishing her boots, weapon, and anything else she could. She'd defended herself saying that it was the best way to impress the officers, but it'd only served to earn her a lasting nickname.

" **As pleasing as it is learning what life would've been like had I chosen the 'Corps, I've got something to attend to."** With that, Arnette unwound herself from the table and began towards Lt. Commander William's cabin. She announced her presence with a hesitant knock on the door and a soft, **"Lieutenant Arnette here, ma'am."**

Ashley snorted to herself as she motioned towards the door, the gyroscopic sensors in her omni-tool detecting the motion and triggering the door's open mechanism. **"Here with some more 'all-clear' reports for me, Lieutenant?"**

Arnette smiled softly and stepped into the room, her hand blindly tapping the door's control pad to close it back, **"I could hand you some empty datapads if that would make things better, ma'am. I was more here as a friend."**

Ashley shook her head and turned her attention back to the computer in front of her, fingers tapping away at a holographic keyboard, **"I'm assuming you saw the show out in the common area?"**

" **I wasn't going to mention that ma'am. May I?"** Arnette looked down towards a cushioned chair that sat facing the Lieutenant Commander. Ashley just nodded in response and Arnette slowly lowered herself into the chair. **"I understand how hard it was losing the Commander."**

" **Look Lieutenant, it's alright. I've heard that from everyone else aboard, I know we all took it hard. It's just—"**

" **Gunnery Sergeant Rachel Almonez…"** Arnette leaned forward during a moment of silence between the two, her eyes focused on her lap before making their way back up to Ashley. **"She was on** _ **Freedom's Progress**_ **as** **part of their marine detachment. We were going to get some corresponding leave a month or two after the colony got hit and were going to speed a week on Arcturus, I was thinking about proposing in a year or so. I made sure that when Commander Shepard came back to Earth that I was on the** _ **Normandy,**_ **no matter who was at its helm I knew that if I was here I'd be at the front of the line for revenge."**

A heavy silence fell between the two women as each attempted to digest where the conversation had landed. Ashley's eyes, which had been hardened and sharp, were now warm and pleading with Arnette—realizing that the woman understood her position far better than Ashley had thought she could.

Arnette's face suddenly softened and she began to dig through the small handbag that she'd carried with her. Since the officer was off duty presently and had been planning to seek out Commander Williams anyways, she'd stored an item that she hoped to present the Commander with. **"I'm not a marine myself, ma'am, but I understand that marines are a close knit bunch—even if you're an officer now you're still a marine. On that note, I had Corporal Worbaar grab something from me from the Kennel?"** The last word was posed as a slight question, her tone imploring the commander to correct her if she'd misused the marine nickname for the cargo bay. Ashley made no indication that she'd botched the name, so Arnette continued. From the nondescript leather satchel Arnette pulled a dented and scratched aluminum flask. **"I understand that there's a still somewhere in the kennel, and that no matter the ship marines have a certain 'recipe' for preparing their moonshine. I figured that a familiar 'friend' might help ease the pain for you."**

Ashley shot the other woman a dubious look as she examined the used flask, **"You know regs don't let us have booze onboard any ship bearing Alliance colors."** Her voice didn't hold the stern rebuke of an officer reprimanding a subordinate, rather a career marine who felt compelled to repeat the Alliance stance on the matter—while determining how easily Arnette was dissuaded.

The Lieutenant's response to Ashley was a thin smirk that just did reach her eyes, and the silent pouring of her flask into two glasses for the women. **"Are you really about to quote Alliance regs at me, ma'am? Or am I supposed to pretend you weren't knee deep in whiskey the other night?"** In an exaggerated flourish the woman stopped pouring the glasses and feigned putting away her flask, **"I suppose I can play that game, and take these with me."** She reached for the glass that'd been meant for Ashley, only to find the XO's hand reaching out and pulling it away before she could.

" **Point taken LT."**

" **Take a night off with friends for once, ma'am. All the down time in the world won't do you any good if you spend it alone, in the dark, drowning out the past."**

There was a certain darkness to Ashley's eyes, a permanent shadow that'd fallen across them since the Battle of Earth, but Natasha thought she saw that shadow thin out—if only for a moment.

* * *

 **STG Research Facility, Ilos**

 **27 Days post-Crucible, September 7** **th**

" **Major, sir."**

" **Yes Captain?"**

" **Our long-range scanners are detecting incoming vessels at the outer edge of the system. They've just exited FTL and approach vectors seem to indicate Ilos as their destination."**

" **Are we able to detect any IFF readings from them?"**

" **Their IFFs are mixed, sir. We're looking at 13 ships of various make and model. Most have a private licensing and IFF registration, but three share a Hegemony signature."**

" **Batarians… alert the outer guard to stand watch. Dispatch someone to ensure our AA emplacements are ready for them."**

" **Yes Major Kirrahe. Where will you be headed?"**

" **I'll be headed to alert the research facility. We will need to begin preparations to secure a perimeter around them. The batarians can't be allowed to get their hands on this research. The Galaxy depends on it."**

The two thin silhouettes parted ways, each walking with stride that exuded purpose and confidence. Exiting the forward operating base was a younger salarian, his uniform bearing the name and rank 'Captain Mhiranne'. Meanwhile, strutting in the exact opposite direction was the older and more worn Major Kirrahe. Thin scars wove their way across the salarian's face, leaving behind ghostly white lines on an otherwise mottled dark green complexion. The scars were a sobering reminder of how much action the Major had seen in his time, especially given the shorter nature of salarian lifespans. Kirrahe was headed for one of the prefabricated trams that the salarians had installed into the Ilos facility. Their FOB was at the mouth of the facility, part of its tent and prefab structure jutting out of the ancient structure's doors. Inside they'd installed a prefab tram to carry them through the long tunnels of the facility and allow faster study of the Conduit.

The dark and eroded artwork of civilizations long past, some of which he now understood to predate prothean, flashed before Kirrahe's eyes as the tram sped through the tunnels. STG had been on Ilos since 2183, the first teams having arrived within weeks of the Battle of the Citadel. In the three years that had passed they'd been able to extrapolate massive amounts of data, not just from the VI left behind but also from storage drives and equipment left behind by the protheans. It hadn't been until late in the year 2185 that they'd been able to get Vigil, the prothean VI that had been left to guard the Conduit, back online. His memory banks had unlocked troves of knowledge for the salarians, and quickly they were able to better understand how Relays worked, even if fabricating one was still far off.

What they'd also found, which had surprised Kirrahe until he thought about it, was a stockpile of the material that the Citadel and the Relays were made of. It made sense, given that the protheans had recreated a Relay themselves, but Kirrahe understood it to be the first time anyone in this cycle had ever seen the metal in an unused state. The information left behind by the protheans didn't give it a name but one of the scientists, Dr. Oylaan Lorinth, had coined the name relatanium. From there the scientists had been able to begin their work on understanding how the Conduit had been built, and by proxy the Relays themselves.

The tram came to halt after a rapid deceleration and its doors slid open to reveal the small city of tents and prefab shelters that made up the STG research here. Kirrahe stepped out of the tram with a certain energy in each step, weaving his way through the bustling scientists and roaming drones. With a crisp salute Kirrahe stiffened in front of another salarian, this one bearing even more facial wrinkles and scars that Kirrahe himself, showing him to be even more aged. **"Colonel Vaewan, sir."** Yirrik Vaewan had been with STG for decades, but his role now was more of a researcher and knowledge basin than that of an intelligence operative or soldier. It was for that reason that Kirrahe had been given command of the STG military FOB at the front of the facility while Vaewan had chosen to oversee the research.

The younger salarian's right hand snapped to his brow in a crisp salute which was mirrored by Vaewan. **"What is it, Major?"**

" **Long range scanners have picked up unauthorized vessels exiting FTL at the edge of the system, and their approach vectors strongly indicate Ilos as their destination. IFFs paint most ships as private, but several bear Hegemony signatures so we're operating under the assumption that this is a move by the batarians. I've sent Captain Mhiranne to ensure that the AA emplacements are prepared, and that the front guard is ready to receive and repel any hostilities. "**

" **Very good Major. We must begin securing a perimeter around our research stations, starting with RS-4. RS-1-3 are valuable but ultimately have been deemed non mission critical for Relay reactivation."**

" **Affirmative sir. I'll begin raising the kinetic barriers in place and will have units set turret emplacements. We must holdfast and trust that the Union wouldn't leave us to the varren. Until then, we will hold the line."**

* * *

 **Author's notes:**

Sorry for the length between updates. I'm getting settled into the swing of my current university semester & having to eek out time for writing when I'm not studying / in class. That said, I hope you all enjoy this chapter. If there are things that you don't like about the direction the story goes, leave me a review and let me know. Likewise, if you like a direction the story is going leave me a review and let me know. Ultimately I want this to be an enjoyable story for all who read it, and I thrive off of your feedback :)


	6. In the Flames of Elysium

**SSV Normandy, Deep Space**

 **September 9** **th** **, 2186**

" **Do you see that… in the distance?"** A gloved finger stabbed at the glass viewport to indicate the looming speck out in space.

Garrus Vakarian tilted his head, pressing it against the viewport as best he could. In the distance he could see a shadowy piece of what looked like debris, and that was it. He turned back to face the younger quarrian girl with a confused flare to his mandibles, **"I believe so… yes?"**

" **That is the system's mass relay… if we can get a closer look at it once Joker is done discharging the drive core's static we can tell if all the relays were damaged as badly as the one in the Serpent Nebula. Then we can begin to understand what happened to the Relays to damage them like this, and perhaps how to repair them."**

A soft chuckle filled the cabin, underlined by the amused subtones of Garrus' voice. **"I'll leave that to you and Adams, Tali. I'll make sure to give Joker the order to take us by it once he's done, though."** Garrus pulled away from the viewport that lined one of the walls in his new Captain's quarters and began to mill across the floor. He wasn't entirely comfortable living in here, and it was clear by the fact that he hadn't brought many of his belongings up here. The limited wardrobe that he had on the Normandy had been squeezed into the closet alongside Shepard's old clothes. His datapads were scattered around his desk, stacked ontop of datapads, printouts, and other items left behind by Shepard. **"I can't help but feel like she'd have some grand plan for how to get the Relay's back online. She'd intimidate some scientist or go head to head with some officer and cannibalize another ship's drive core to reignite the relays or something. Instead she leaves me in charge without so much as a handbook."**

Garrus' musings were interrupted by a sharp and heavily accented laugh from Tali'zorah who had made her way over to where he was standing, her bright white eyes stared up at him from behind her foggy helmet. **"I do not think even Shepard would have an easy time with this predicament, saera. You are doing the best that you can do."** The diminutive girl wrapped her arms around Garrus' waist and allowed her helmeted head to rest on his chest.

Awkwardly Garrus returned the hug and found a place of his arms to rest, one going over her shoulder to wrap around her back while the other went under her arm to likewise support her. His mandibles flared as he stared at her, finally cocking one eye and asking **"Saera? I'm not familiar with that word, I've never heard you use it."**

" **Oh."** Tali's voice was sharp and coated in sudden embarrassment, **"It uh… it is an old quarrian word of endearment. It is meant for… erm… it is meant for the one you are with."**

" **What's the translation?"**

" **Oh… erm… it means my soul's soul, it is typically used for quairan lifemates, I am sorry if—"** The younger woman's nervous ramblings were cut off when Garrus pressed his mandibles against the forehead of her helmet in a symbolic kiss—the sentiment of which immediately silenced Tali. Finally, when she spoke again her voice was soft and calm, **"I miss Shepard too, Garrus… I wish she were here to help us with this."**

* * *

" **We have successfully entered the effective range of the planet's magnetic field, Flight Lieutenant Moreau."**

" **How many times do I have to tell you to shove the 'Flight Lieutenant' shit and just call me Joker, Hammer?"** An over exaggerated sigh came through the CIC over the 1MC as Joker descended into melodramatics at Serviceman Hammer's insistence to call him by his rank—likely an intentional jab at the helmsman just to irk him.

Ashley Williams stood over the Galaxy Map, standing on the command podium that overlooked the CIC and offered a glimpse into the cockpit. Garrus had told her that he was going to take some personal time and had asked her to take the deck while they initiated the static discharge. As XO it was technically her responsibility to oversee the CIC in his absence anyways, but Ashley itched while she was on the podium. She longed to be three decks below getting into bullshit with the other marines—no doubt exactly what James Vega was presently doing.

" **Commander Williams,"** the familiar voice of Natasha Arnette cut through the din of chatter in the CIC with ease, drawing Ashley's attention in her direction. **"Sensors are reading no other vessels in the area and are picking up no signals in this area. Recommend we retract all sensors and weapons and begin static discharge when you're ready."**

" **Thank you Lieutenant Arnette. Lieutenant Mangin, begin powering down all of our sensory equipment."**

" **Aye aye, Commander."** The young woman replied, her hands dancing over the console before her.

" **Operations Chief Ivey, begin powering down all exterior weapons systems."**

" **Affirmative Ma'am."**

And like that the CIC was ablaze, officers darting between duty stations ensuring that each of their respective arrays were deactivated and prepared for the static discharge.

" **Weapons offline."**

" **Sensors offline."**

Magin and Ivey chimed in at nearly the same time to report that they'd followed out Ashley's command, receiving in turn a nod from the Commander. **"Specialist Traynor, please notify Lieutenant Adams that he may proceed with the drive core static discharge at his earliest convenience."**

" **Copy that, ma'am."** Came the English voice of the _Normandy's_ Chief Communications Specialist Samantha Traynor.

Ashley could faintly hear Traynor as she relayed Ashley's command to engineering. Meanwhile the Lieutenant Commander just sank into the railing that wrapped around the command podium and allowed herself to relax. **"Non-essential personnel dismissed until further notice. Get yourselves some downtime."**

Williams herself just stepped back from the command podium and slipped into the Normandy's central elevator. Silently Ashley prayed that maintenance would get the central stairwell working on the Normandy again so that she wouldn't have to rely on the slow lift to carry her from the crew deck to the CIC dozens of times a day. She was halfway down the hall towards her cabin when a voice called out her name, and stopped her dead in her tracks.

Behind her was Lieutenant James Vega, dressed in fatigue pants and a gray SAMC t-shirt that did little to hide his bulky gene-enhanced muscles. From behind Vega she could make out Corporal Cyzilie Worbaar, Gunnery Sergeant Amani Faunce, Corporal Hallie Chadwell, and finally Lieutenant Natasha Arnette. **"Aye, we're all going to unwind in Normandy's lounge for a bit while the eggheads down below fire off into the gas giant."** _Of course, it would be James Vega to snipe her before she could crash in her cabin._

With a muffled sigh Ash turned around and began towards the group of assorted sailors and marines who all stood in or around the doorway of the _Normandy's_ lounge. The lounge had been an addition by Cerberus when they'd designed the ship, and it either had survived Alliance retrofit or the Alliance simply hadn't gotten around to removing it yet. With the ban on alcohol on Alliance warships still in place the lounge was officially only for relaxation and non-credit poker. However, Shepard had been very loose with her enforcement of the rules and had allowed a decent stock of alcohol, mostly leftovers from before the _Normandy_ came under Alliance control, to stay in the lounge. Now Shepard was dead, and the ship fell to Ashley & Garrus to take care of. Suddenly the Lieutenant Commander found herself uncomfortably unsure of what direction she saw for the Normandy, and how she would settle into her new posting.

Ash was jarred immediately from her introspection by the rough hand of James Vega coming down on her shoulder, his cheerful face staring at her. **"C'mon Ash, I'll pour first drinks."**

With a slight grimace Ashley sat down on one of the bar's stools, her head coming to rest in her palm as her elbow braced against the bar. Outside the nearby window were the first tendrils of light cascading around the ship as the static was discharged. Out of the corner of her eye, in a blink and you would've missed it moment, Ashley could've sworn that she saw Arnette staring at her with an unfamiliarly dep gaze. As soon as she caught sight of the look it was gone, replaced by a friendly smile from the sharp blonde woman. The clatter of glass against the bar brought Ashley's attention around to Vega, who was steadily pushing the glass closer and closer to her while whispering **"Drink! Drink! Drink!"**

* * *

 **Illyria, Elysium**

 **September 10** **th** **, 2186**

" **There's one thing I don't understand sir, you never asked me about what happened on the Citadel, or what happened to Anderson."** Shepard's face was genuinely confused as she looked up at the older man. She was seated on the cold cement floor of a warehouse that they'd taken up in. While Illyria still stood in the aftermath of the Reaper War, it wasn't pretty; Shepard and Hackett were more than willing to leave all of the housing areas to the city's true inhabitants.

In return to the Commander's question Hackett just smiled, his lips a thin knowing line for a moment. **"I spoke with Major Coats before I saw you in London. I asked him those very questions, and he told me about how sharp your response was. I figured that whatever happened up there was brutal as hell, and I already knew what I needed to know. You pushed on where all of your peers fell, you made your way into the enemy's most guarded stronghold, and you fired the shot that killed the Reapers. The fine details of whatever happened in the Citadel, and who killed Anderson, can be addressed later."**

Shepard swallowed hard, scenes from that day flashing through her mind as if it were happening all over again. It'd been weeks and she thought she'd finally come to terms with it all, that she had finally begun to smooth the callous veneer over it like she had her other traumatic memories. She could still feel the tension of the trigger when her finger pulled the trigger against all commands. She could see the look of sadness in Anderson's face as he accepted his fate, and she could remember the pain she'd felt as he died beside her. **"I did."**

" **Commander?"** Hackett's voice held a slight note of confusion, but also compassion. He could tell that the memories hadn't faded in a way few others could, because he no doubt had such memories of his own.

" **I killed Anderson, sir. The Illusive Man was there, he was indoctrinated, and the Reapers had given him some sort of advanced form of indoctrination to wield. He could control us not just mentally, but physically too. He forced me to pull the trigger and shoot Anderson, but I managed to shoot the motherfucker myself afterwards. It was right before I opened the Citadel arms for you."**

The confusion on Hackett's face began to clear as he stepped forward, crouching beside the crumpled Shepard. At recollection of the memories she'd begun to ball herself up, bringing her knees towards her chest in a defensive manner subconsciously. He placed a hand on her shoulder, his steely blue eyes locking with hers, **"Commander, whatever you did aboard the Citadel saved the entire galaxy. If the Illusive Man was working with the Reapers and had some control over their abilities then he was a very powerful enemy. Whatever he might've forced you to do isn't your fault. The Illusive Man was a sick perverted man, and he'd been a pain in the ass to the galaxy for decades. I know how close you and Anderson were, and I know that holding the gun that killed him will haunt you for years, but you didn't kill Anderson—that sick son of a bitch did, and you avenged him."**

A silence descended upon the stretch of warehouse that Shepard and Hackett were in, only pierced by the _drip... drip... drip..._ of a distant leak somewhere in the warehouse. Shepard let her head sink into her hands, slowly massaging her face in exhaustion for just a second, and when her head rose again there was a different look on her face. Gone was the broken and pained Shepard that'd been on the ground, instead her sharp pale features were those of the brutal soldier born from Elysium, Akuze, and Torfan. Her steely blue-green eyes were as hard as they'd ever been, and she once again looked like the woman that'd been appointed the first human Spectre three years prior, a transformation that brought a small creeping smile to Hackett's lips. Even if her heart still being battered by the turmoil of grief and guilt she wouldn't let it out. Shepard fashioned the iron restraints of will over the pain as she had so many times before and struggled to her feet. Pain shot through her body, no doubt from her failing cybernetics, but she wouldn't be crumpled on the ground any longer.

For his part, Admiral Hackett allowed her to rise on her own power, his eyes just intently watching her all the while, his smile thin and satisfied. He'd forged her into a weapon in the fires left behind on Elysium, and that weapon had threatened to shatter under the pressure that the events of the Battle of Earth had brought to bear, but Hackett knew better than that. He'd seen Jessica Shepard pull herself out of hell before, and he'd just been waiting to see her do it again, encouraging her all the while. **"Sir, I'm ready to give you my report on the infiltration of the Citadel."**

* * *

 **Normandy, FTL**

 **September 10th, 2186**

What had been an interesting afternoon of fellowship while the _Normandy_ discharged its static had wound down into a hazy and blurred night. Those gathered were in various states of intoxication, with Worbaar and Faunce having to physically carry Hallie Chadwell back to the marine bunks. Most incapacitated of all was Natasha Arnette, who laid half slumped in her stool, half laid across the bar, drool seeping out of the corner of her mouth. James Vega had left an hour or so start his shift in the shuttle bay, supervising the marines that were on duty.

Worbaar stopped and cast a pitiful look at Arnette, the Corporal grimacing at her friend's condition, **"Almost feel bad leaving her like that with you, XO. I guess that's why you don't party with the Command Officers. Go easy on her, aight Commander?"**

Ashley snorted a laugh and nodded slowly, **"Just get back to your bunk Corporal, I'll make sure the Lieutenant is alright."**

Worbaar nodded and returned her attention to supporting her half of Hallie Chadwell, and collectively the three marines began to stumble out into the crew deck. Ashley gently placed a hand on Arnette's shoulder and shook her a little, trying to see if she could get the young sailor to wake up, but the girl was out. It seemed that Arnette didn't drink nearly as much as she boasted, and couldn't handle half the liquor she'd had.

With a cautious gentleness in her actions Ashley began heft Arnette up and over her shoulder. The older marine was far more acquainted with drinking, and though she wasn't sober she was on her way there. The lift didn't even begin to stir Arnette, instead the Lieutenant just let out a bit of a snore while Ashley finished getting her over her shoulder. The walk across the crew deck to her own cabin was a difficult one, mostly because her balance still wasn't one-hundred-percent and she was pretty sure that she almost collapsed at least twice.

Still, the Lieutenant Commander managed to keep her feet about her and laid the passed out Lieutenant down on her bunk, draping a sheet over her. Ashley then settled into the couch for a bit of rest herself, curling her legs underneath her to find the perfect comfortable position. Across the room she could see the cracked and charred N7 helmet that now rested in her room as reminder of Shepard. It'd been in the captain's cabin while Shepard was alive, but Garrus had given it to her due to the nature of their relationship. Pain shot through her chest at the sight of the cracked visor, and for a moment she wondered what kind of pain Shepard had suffered during the fall from the Normandy SR-1. What intense burning she must've felt as her body passed through the atmosphere and life slipped from her, only to have Ashley shun her when she miraculously came back to life. **"I'm so sorry skipper."** Ashley whispered as she closed her eyes and tried to find some sleep, **"I'm so sorry."**

" **Ma'am?"**

The voice pierced the silence that'd fallen over the room, and shattered the security that Ash had found behind the blackness of her eyelids. Her head turned to see a very groggy and confused Arnette sitting up in bed, her blonde hair a mess around her shoulders and her eyes desperately trying to figure out where she was. **"Nothing Lieutenant, how are you feeling?"**

" **I feel like warm shit ma'am... and... where am I?"**

" **My cabin, I brought you in here rather than try to get you back to the bunks while you were passed out. Turns out you can't hold your liquor half as well as you can talk shit."** Ash's face was crossed with a wry grin as she sat up on her couch, eyeying Arnette to make sure that she wasn't going to puke on her bunk, or fall over. A lurch from the girl indicated one of those things was indeed about to happen, and she watched the young lieutenant try to stand up only to begin teetering on weak knees.

Ashley was on her feet in an instant, darting across the floor to catch the Lieutenant before she collapsed, realizing a moment later just how close they were. Her arms were wrapped around Arnette underneath her armpits, and their faces were inches apart. At this range she could smell the vodka on the younger woman's breath, but moreover she could see an ill-restrained lust in Arnette's eyes. Ashley's cheeks grew hot as she repositioned the lieutenant back onto the bunk and untangled her arms from her.

To Arnette's credit, the younger woman's cheeks were flushed a bright red and the lazy movement of her eyes betrayed just how intoxicated she still was. Ash flashed back momentarily to when she'd collapsed on this very floor after receiving reports of her old team's death, and how uncharacteristically soft Shepard had been. Ash's remembered Arnette's recent loss, and the corners of her mouth sagged into a sad frown. **"I'll help you to your bunk lieutenant, no point in you having to go see Dr. Chakwas tomorrow for injuries sustained just trying to get back to your bunk."**

Still, Ashley felt guilt arc across her chest like an errant thunderstorm. She could tell that Arnette was, at the very least, infatuated with her—and Ashley wasn't distancing herself. She'd taken things slow with Shepard, she'd tried to hide her feelings, only to eventually find them reciprocated by the Commander; she'd also watched Shepard die twice. She resolved that her decision on how to handle this would be better handled at a different time with a far more sober mind.

* * *

 **STG Facility, Ilos**

 **September 10th, 2186**

" **Captain, the final anti-infantry cannon has received critical damage to its heatsink and ammunition feed. Our on-site engineer attempted field repairs but the enemy overwhelmed the cannon and killed both he and the gunner. They are now pushing directly towards the mouth of the facility and towards us."** The rapid fire situation assessment came from a young jittery salarian private, his dark green complexion not worried but grim. He was wearing the matte black armor of STG and had a venom shotgun in his hands.

Upon their initial investigation into Ilos STG had found that the protheans had built an in-ground canopy that deployed to cover the Conduit when it wasn't actively being used. It could be manually raised or lowered, but was naturally raised to keep prying eyes from finding what they had been working on—which allowed STG to reinforce it with a kinetic barrier and funnel any traffic towards the Conduit through Ilos' long sprawling underground chamber. As it was now, STG had reinforced the opening of said chamber with AA emplacements, anti-infantry cannons, and a reinforced position held by the bulk of STG's fighting force on the planet.

The attacking forces had fallen in droves to the AA cannons at first, and few managed to crawl from the wreckage of their freighters, but then they got smart and aimed several well placed suicide fighters at the cannons. The tactic had ended STG's superiority over their air forces, and now they'd spent the past day and a half repelling advancing ground troops. Meanwhile, the mixed forces of gangs, pirates, Hegemony survivors and various miscreants had been bombing the facility as best they could. It seemed they were hoping to deprive the salarians of any insight or wealth that might arise from Ilos if they weren't allowed to have it themselves.

Major Kirrahe shifted on his feet, his eyes flicking from the private in front of him to the distant advancing lines. He knew from intelligence reports that he'd read that the humans and batarians had been feuding for the past ten to fifteen years, having culminated into full blown hostilities with the Skyllian Blitz and later the Raid of Torfan. Commander Shepard's obliteration of the Alpha Relay and thousands of batarians hadn't aided relations at all, and after their near-decimation at the hands of the reapers it seemed that the batarians had completely cut themselves off diplomatically from the rest of the galaxy. This didn't bode well for his men on Ilos, for it seemed the batarians had it in their mind that Ilos fell in their realm and was being stolen from them.

" **That was inevitable, private. We will stand firm regardless."** He stepped away from the private and towards the center of the fortification that most of the salarians had taken cover inside of. It was covered on the top and on the sides, and occupied the entire mouth of the chamber's entrance. It would be the point that the hordes of vorcha, krogan and batarians would have to breach in order to get into the facility. **"Listen here brothers and sisters, we have been trusted to hold the line here today. That is the legacy of the salarian people, our influence has shaped the galaxy but each time it was not without a cost."** He began to pace back and forth as each STG soldier came to attention in a perfect formation in front of him. **"We provided the galaxy a solution to the rachni, but before that we held the line with boots firmly planted in the ground."** He whirled on his heels and began in the other direction, **"We provided the galaxy a solution to the krogan, but before that we held the line with bullets and blood."** He came to stop at the center of their formation, his finger now stabbing into the air passionately, **"It was salarian minds that unlocked many of the breakthroughs on the crucible, but before that I watched men and women of the salarian union die on the beaches of virmire to prevent a Reaper invasion. The salarian minds deeper in this compound will unlock the secrets of the Mass Relays, and they will repair the galaxy's infrastructure, but until then we must hold the line!"**

A chorus of affirmatives met his speech along with a unified salute, to which he returned an equally crisp salute. **"Men, take your stations. Private Mhiranne, alert Colonel Vaewan that we will be directly engaging the enemy within the hour."** With those final words the salarian formation broke, and Mhiranne began to break for a nearby comm station. Each spindly alien began to move about to their assigned position, some taking up sniping, others taking up manned cannons, and more still lining the front of the barricade.

The first of the batarian's small arms fire began to clatter against the kinetic barrier in front of the STG position, the last defense that the salarians had from total war—that and one other thing. Kirrahe smiled grimly to himself. The salarians were not an ancient species like the asari or the krogan, they were not a physically imposing species like the krogan or the turans, but they were a force to be reckoned with for their intellect. Rarely did a salarian fight without hidden tricks scattered about, a fact the batarians were soon to learn. He measured his breath as he watched the first of the vorcha peek around large overgrown pillars that formed a narrow funnel into the facility's entrance.

In their typical mindless fashion, the vorcha charged forward at full speed while howling at the top of their lungs. The first was nearing effective range of his weapons against the shield when the ground underneath him erupted. Everything from the vorcha's chest and below was liquified, flying through the air as he cried out in pain.

Nearby him was a charging krogan, his armor showing him to be part of a blood pack faction that was no doubt hired by whoever was organizing the batarian end of things. The brute's left leg suddenly disappeared in an explosion of flame, debris, and blood. All around the attackers' vanguard were eruptions as mercenary after mercenary triggered a buried landmine and was blown apart. From within the safety of their kinetic barriers the salarians began to open fire, the cracking of their sub machine guns, light machine guns, and venom shotguns tearing through the advancing enemy lines.

* * *

 **Illyria, Elysium**

 **September 10th, 2186**

Miranda Lawson had spent three days tirelessly scouring Illyria for anything that she could use for her impossible task, accompanied by the two imposing AIS agents that seemed to have infinitely coercive powers to secure valuable equipment from resistant owners. She'd been to hospitals, tech labs, and research facilities in and around the city of Illyria. The planet had been damaged somewhat by the reapers, but it hadn't been all that severe compared with the destruction wrought on other places. Several orbital strikes had eliminated large structures and damaged its prominent cities, Illyria not excluded, but Miranda found that she didn't have a great deal of difficulty finding the facilities she needed.

Now she was riding in the passenger seat of a skycar that was piloted by one of the AIS agents, the other riding in the back, as they traveled back to where Shepard and Hackett were staying. They'd taken up inside a freight warehouse during the day, Shepard arguing for it rather than going stir-crazy aboard the _Dunkirk_ apparently.

At the entrance to the ever nearing warehouse seh could see two Alliance marines standing guard. The skycar slowed to a stop and Miranda slid out of her seat, her boots clicking as they made contact with the faded concrete lot that sprawled in front of the warehouse. The two marines began to approach her, their eyes looking her over for any sign of who she was—they were a new addition since the last time she'd spoken with Hackett and Shepard. She was wearing a stiff black pantsuit that both managed to convey professionalism and allure at the same time, an outfit that Oriana had scoffed at.

" **Identification ma'am?"**

Miranda looked back towards the two AIS agents that were just now approaching from the skycar, the lead of which tendered an Alliance ID card to the Lieutenant Donnel, as his uniform identified him. **"She's with us, Lieutenant."**

" **Aye sir. You are free to proceed."**

Miranda didn't feel the need to thank the AIS agent, nor did she feel the need to interact with the marines anymore. She pushed past the Lieutenant, and then past his partner—a Chief Romez. She was bound for the entrance to the warehouse with a quick determination, and for good reason.

The green hologram in front of the door disappeared as the doors slid apart and revealed a deep and dimly lit warehouse. Nearby, against one of its walls, were the two people she was looking for. Hackett and Shepard had both been seated and focused on datapads, though now their attention was solely on Miranda. Silently they waited to hear what had brought her back here so soon, and she could tell there was a certain anxiousness for good news.

The last time she'd seen Shepard the woman had been nursing deep glowing scars on her cheeks. They came and went in severity, and unfortunate result of her early awakening from the Lazarus project. Occasionally he'd even seen the flicker of red light from the Commander's pupils, signifying just how much stress the Commander had been under. Her scars were still there, but now they were dark and hollow and there was no glow in her eyes. All her cybernetics were definitely non-functional, and that was bad for Shepard's health to have happened so early. She likely would have lived a full life without the cybernetics had they stopped working several years after her awakening, but it had been less than a year since then now—her body wasn't ready.

" **I have everything I need, Shepard. I can begin the operation in 24 hours, but I'll need** _ **Dunkirk's**_ **medbay, and a team of surgeons. Admiral, here are their dossiers if you could have them aboard and prepared."** Terror threatened to swell in Miranda's throat at what she'd just said, and the operation she was now locked in for. It was entirely likely that this would kill Shepard, or leave her severely disabled, but it wasn't a choice that'd been given to her. Miranda said a silent prayer that this didn't turn out to be as difficult as she feared it could be, for both of them.

 **A/N:** The Mass Effect wiki gives us a super bare-bones description of Systems Alliance ranks, and doesn't give any kind of explanation for why there was a 'Major' Kyle. Due to that I've taken the liberty to expand on their rank structure, and explain some of the discrepancies.

Also, I've added a Codex section to the end of the prologue of the story. I'll try to update it with all the codex entries I've added so far, as well as an ever-expanding list of characters as I introduce you to the mostly-OC crew of the Normandy. I will still post all new Codex entries at the end of each chapter, but I'll also try to remember to add them to the prologue's codex index in case you want to reference a character / acronym / etc.

 **CODEX:**

Note: while the Marine Corps are technically a part of the Systems Alliance Navy, they have been allowed by High Command to retain some traditional rank titles. Sometimes a rank within the Marine Corps can bear multiple titles, owing to the common marine behavior of referring to certain ranks by historical names of equivalence. Such can be observed with the rank of 'Chief', in that marines will commonly switch between 'Chief' and 'Sergeant' along with the appropriate prefix (such as Gunnery, Operations, etc.). This can also be seen with the rank of 'Lieutenant Commander' and its traditional name of 'Major'.

The Navy rank structure is as follows:

 **Officers**

Fleet Admiral

Admiral

Vice Admiral

Rear Admiral

Commodore

Captain

Commander

Lieutenant Commander

First Lieutenant

Second Lieutenant

Ensign

 **NCO**

Operations Chief

Gunnery Chief

Service Chief

 **Enlisted**

Specialist

Serviceman First Class

Serviceman Second Class

Serviceman

The Marine rank structure is as follows:

 **Officers**

Field Marshal

General

Lieutenant General

Major General

Brigadier General

Captain

Commander

Lieutenant Commander / Major

First Lieutenant

Second Lieutenant

Ensign

 **NCO**

Operations Chief / Sergeant

Gunnery Chief / Sergeant

Service Chief / Sergeant

 **Enlisted**

Corporal

Lance Corporal

Private First Class

Private


	7. The Cavern

**A/N:** Sorry for the delay in updates. Exams and a cold made writing hard to accomplish for a bit. As always I hope you enjoy this chapter! Leave a review if you like the direction it's taking, or if you don't!

 _ **SSV Normandy,**_ **Ilos**

 **September 11th, 2186**

Ashley Williams couldn't remember the first time she'd gone into space as a kid. She'd been born on Sirona, but with her dad in the Alliance they'd frequently left to visit him on one of his postings. Ashley hadn't cared, or even noticed, that her dad was getting the shit assignments, and she didn't care about how long it might take to FTL from one system to another. There were two things about each of those trips that enthralled Ashley: to travel through space, and to see her dad again.

She couldn't do one of those anymore, but damn if she didn't compensate with how much she traveled through space. Even now the Marine Lieutenant Commander could see the sea of darkness that was deep space in the distance through the cockpit's forward viewport. The CIC had been built without any viewports, oddly enough, but that didn't matter as far as its operation went. Seeing space in real-time, it turned out, wasn't necessary to commanding a warship. Piloting one, somewhat, but not commanding one. She or Garrus, depending on which was in command of the ship at the time, could see all of the tactical and navigational information pertinent to the _Normandy_ from the captain's podium. Furthermore the CIC had a small army of technicians, specialists, and officers manning duty stations that provided her with further readouts, and they certainly understood the raw data available to them far better than she ever would.

Right now Ashley didn't need the technicians, specialists, or officers at her disposal to tell her what the readouts were showing, but she desperately wished that they'd tell her that she was misinterpreting them. More than anything else though, she didn't envy Garrus Vakarian at all.

" **Lieutenant Dunsford, am I looking at what I think I'm looking at?"** The man had spent years in the turian military, had been considered for Special Tactics and Reconnaissance, had served in C-Sec and had helped Shepard fight the Reapers—he knew what he was looking at as well as she did, he just didn't want to be.

" **Aye sir, sensors are picking up a picket of ships above the planet in upper atmosphere, directly above the STG facility, and down on the planet we're seeing signs of over a dozen stationary ships. We're unable to get anyone on the comm, but that seems to be due to a wide-range signal jammer coming from one of the picket ships. Additionally, our long range imaging isn't perfect clarity but there seems to be signs of battle at the mouth of the facility."**

" **IFF on any of the vessels?"**

" **They all seem to be various privately owned freighters belonging to individuals or corporations from the Terminus, except for a few. There are nine vessels in total that are broadcasting Hegemony IFF sir."**

" **Goddamn batarians."** This came not from Dunsford or Garrus, but from behind the captain's terminal where Ashley stood. Garrus turned back to glance at her for a second, pursing whatever the turian equivalent of lips were, and nodding.

" **Joker, take us off stealth—we'll need all the heat we can take. Continue our current trajectory towards the facility. Lieutenant Lotts, power all weapon systems and begin calculating your target locks. Lieutenant Fothergill, begin e-warfare countermeasures on that jamming."** There was a slight pause after his last set of orders, Garrus waiting for the young Lieutenant Fothergill to turn and nod to him that the jamming had been disrupted. The turian smiled and turned to Samantha Traynor, **"Specialist Traynor, if you would do me the honors and hail the picket vessel responsible for jamming our communications."**

" **Yes Commander,"** the younger woman paused for a moment and then gave him a crisp nod to indicate that he was live.

" **Attention** _ **HSV Bhak'khar**_ **this is Lieutenant Commander Garrus Vakarian of the Alliance Warship** _ **Normandy,**_ **your attempt to jam communications in this system violated Citadel Council law. I can't help but assume that you were either ignorant of this law, or ignorant of the fact that you were jamming our communications, and I've chosen to make the proper decision for you and end your jamming."**

" **The Council doesn't rule here! You're in the Terminus Systems,** _ **turian—**_ **blast them out of the sky!"** The last few words from the batarian were aimed off-screen, likely towards one of his weapons officers.

" **Sir I'm getting readings that they're powering up weapons."** this from Specialist Billow at the sensors station.

" **I see. Traynor, disconnect us now. Lieutenant Lotts, you have permission to fire at will. Joker—"** the _Normandy_ shook hard as one of the batarian cannons scored a hit against the ship's shields, **"evasive maneuvers!"**

The CIC suffered a harsh shudder, sending one young officer tumbling to the ground, as Joker banked the _Normandy_ harder than the ship's compensators were prepared for. The tactical readout blinking in front of Ashley displayed the erratic weapons fire of the batarian ships as well as the _Normandy's_ return fire. One by one the red-highlighted batarian ships began to dwindle, their signature flickering from the angry crimson of hostile to dull gray specks of debris.

The _Normandy_ bore her own scars from the battle, several of the batarian shots managing to hit home, one even hitting the frigate's hull—piercing the cargo-bay. Aside from a few superficial burns, and bruises from the sudden maneuvers, her crew was fine. Garrus had done his job as the _Normandy's_ captain, but she could see that it had taken its own personal toll on him. The turian was tense, his claw-like fingers wrapped around the rails of the captain's podium. His breathing was short and measured, but he showed no obvious signs of fear or stress. Turians were groomed for war from birth, but this was the first time Garrus had been the commanding officer of a ship such as the Normandy.

" **Joker, bring us closer to the STG facility and have Lieutenant Cortez prepare a shuttle."**

* * *

 _ **SSV Dunkirk,**_ **Elysium**

 **September 11th, 2186**

" **I understand your frustrations, Admiral. Humanity made tremendous sacrifices during the recent war, and they will not be overlooked. We respect your standing as a council race, in fact the three of us unanimously agreed that humanity should be offered another chance on the Council after Councilor Udina's betrayal. The simple matter is that the salarian society suffered the least in the war, and the asari still have much of our government structure intact. We should host the council on Sur'kesh until a new facility can be built, and our reconstruction efforts should be focused on the asari—our infrastructure will be the easiest to rebuild and refugees can be hosted there."**

Standing before Councilor Tevos was the unwavering image of Admiral Steven Hackett, his lips a pressed line of displeasure and his eyes hard as steel. His visage was flickering and distorted due to his attendance over vidcom but that did little to diminish the intimidation he imposed. Standing behind his holographic presence, in person, was Rear Admiral Mikhailovich—the man responsible for representing humanity should something cut out with Hackett's hologram.

" **I'm going to pretend that I misheard you, Councilor Tevos."** Hackett let those words hang in the air for longer than any present were comfortable with. The Councilors were clearly uncertain as to how they should respond. It was only when when the salarian councilor, Valern, began to speak up to clarify that Hackett continued speaking. He disregarded any signs of the Councilor's attempt to reply, left vague enough that he could coyly claim the connection hadn't picked it up. **"Refilling Humanity's seat on the Council is no favor, we earned that seat three years ago when our ships burned in the sky for you. I brought the Fifth Fleet, against the full force of the Geth and Sovereign, to save the** _ **Destiny Ascension**_ **."**

" **Admiral, you must understand what I meant. I was only referring to Udina's attempted coup of the Council—"**

" **If you'd like to discuss sins committed by each of our species, I'll remind you that Commander Shepard found a goddamn prothean V.I. on Thessia. How many centuries have the asari hid that from the rest of the galaxy for their own gain? How many lives could have been spared if that had been accessed at the start of the war? Councilor you're lucky that humanity doesn't demand the asari relinquish** _ **their**_ **seat on the Council."**

The blue hued alien was very obviously offended by Hackett's harsh rhetoric, but silently held her indignance inside. Hackett relented his verbal assault on Tevos and instead turned his attention back to the entire Council, **"If you would like to know where you should actually begin your rescue efforts, I'm sure the survivors on the Citadel from each of your species would appreciate help. From the extent of the damage scouted by my ship when we arrived, it appears that there are a significant number of survivors. The Alliance is already working on relief and rescue, but our numbers are low."**

Shock was evident on the faces of all three assembled, and Hackett thought he saw Mikhailovich grin in his peripheral vision. He hadn't included the fact that Shepard was a live, for that he was waiting to make sure that she actually made it through her surgery, but he had dropped a bombshell about the Citadel. Each of the gathered species had been so concerned about returning to their scarred homeworlds that they hadn't considered the Citadel might've had survivors.

Sparatus was the one to speak now, his mouth agape and his mandibles flaring in shock, **"I—I was under the impression that the Crucible would destroy all reaper technology, and that the Citadel had already been under reaper control for days.."**

" **Indeed."**

" **I... I'll hail the Primarch immediately. Thank you Admiral, expect our forces in Sol as soon as we can arrive."**

" **Good."** He turned to Mikhailovich, **"Admiral, you can handle any further discussion. Hackett out."**

The older man stepped back away from the vidcom platform with a sigh of relief. He hated having to do political work, but it was becoming an increasingly large part of his job. To his side stood Specialist Yarrinov, a young sailor that had barely seen a single tour of duty before the war hit. His current post was as one of Hackett's aides, and in his hand was a datapad with text and images crawling across the screen, **"Erm, sir!"** he saluted nervously, **"Ms. Lawson told me to inform you that Commander Shepard has been taken into surgery."**

" **Thank you son."** Hackett's face was stony and unreadable, his steel blue eyes sweeping across the screen to absorb the entirety of the report. _God help us if she doesn't make it._

* * *

The scene laid out before Miranda was a familiar setting, but one that still instilled terror in her. Commander Shepard was stretched out on an operating table, the woman's body shrouded in a thin medical gown, and her eyes serenely closed. Miranda hadn't seen Shepard this still, this at peace, since she'd brought the Commander back to life a year prior.

The very thing that had forced MIranda to awaken Shepard prematurely had been an attack on the Lazarus Project, and true to her nature Shepard had pulled through in the fight—even though she didn't know where she was, who they were, or what had happened. Ever since then it had been the Collectors, the various gangs of the galaxy's underground, the Reapers, even Cerberus itself—and Shepard had taken on each fight with her same determination, and won. Now to see the woman still on her table, sound asleep under the anesthesia, was a striking difference.

This was an operation that Miranda wasn't entirely comfortable performing, because she didn't know if what she was about to do would work, because she was frightened by what might happen to her if she failed Hackett, and largely because she was scared of killing Shepard. Miranda had become near-obsessive about her research into Shepard during the Lazarus Project, and that obsession had transformed into infatuation when she was finally able to speak with her. Shepard had sensed that, Miranda wasn't adept at social interaction, but the Commander had never let on that she knew.

She'd thought after the night they made for the Omega 4 Relay that something might grow from her feelings. Shepard hadn't seemed to allow herself the distractions of feelings, but for one night Miranda almost battered down the woman's walls—but despite the electric flirting they'd engaged in Shepard still pulled away. Commander Shepard was a force of nature once she was set on a target, and at the time it was the Collectors.

A sharp inhale brought Miranda back to the here and now, and her eyes looked over the patient lying on her table one last time. Glancing to her team of surgeons, and then the holographic display of Shepard's various implants, Miranda gave a stiff nod. **"Let us begin on implant one—Doctor Hyco make an incision at the patient's right radius."**

* * *

 **STG Research Facility** _ **,**_ **Ilos**

 **September 11th, 2186**

The dimly lit underground cavern shook tremendously, as if the roof might cave in and condemn all those below it to death; though the gathered salarians hardly seemed alarmed, Major Kirrahe least of all. The earth-shaking thunder had become so frequent that the salarians only braced themselves a little better so they might ride it out.

A dozen meters in front of their barricades came falling one of the long since deactivated stasis pods, the thundering sound from before now joined by the screech of metal on stone. They had surmised hours before that the thundering was from above ground bombardment by the batarian fighters and frigates, attempting to collapse the tunnel on them—so far they had been unsuccessful in anything except stirring a lot of dirt and unseating prothean stasis pods.

The salarians gathered were the last line of defense before their attackers reached the kinetic barrier that sealed off their research of the Conduit, and this stretch of cavern floor would likely become their grave. Kirrahe silently hoped that the Salarian Union would realize the importance of their work given the state of the relays. Still, he realized it could be weeks before any amount of reinforcements might arrive, due to the very condition of the relays that made their work important.

Even in the face of certain death, Kirrahe found a moment of spiteful comfort in how many of the attackers would die in this final push. His men had been holding back most of their tech, traps, and deployable weapons for the final stand—and that final stand was here. They had specialized mines inlaid into the floor, incendiary charges in the roof of the cavern further on, overload nets, and lines and lines of automated turrets. If they had enough men to sacrifice the batarians would be able to win this push, but they would pay a hefty price in blood.

" **Major,"** the aged voice of Colonel Vaewan caught his attention, **"early detection has just been triggered, they'll be here momentarily."**

" **Understood Colonel. We will be ready."** He knew that his men would be ready to hold this line as long as they needed to, even without the promise of reinforcements, because they were STG.

Suddenly all attention was on the far off bend in the snaking cavern where a brilliant explosion was blooming to life. The explosions continued, one after another, as unlucky varren, vorcha, or batarians stumbled into the salarian mines. Still the attackers didn't stop, their vanguard pushing forward amidst blooming explosions and paralyzing tendrils of electricity. **"They're not stopping..."** This wasn't from Kirrahe or Vaewan, instead it belonged to the young Private Mhirrane.

" **They've given up hopes of disarming our traps, they're just trying to storm us"**

Fire nearly consumed the cavern as an untold amount of mines erupted, each sending a spew of blood and flesh in every direction. Half a dozen times Kirrahe saw a varren or foot soldier that he thought would make it to his position, only to see the attacker consumed by one of the salarian traps. Had the attackers been smarter they may have sent ahead single units to one-by-one trigger the traps, but they weren't.

The preparations the salarians had taken worked to thin the attackers' numbers, but as the last mine blew apart they still had the numbers to easily overwhelm Kirrahe's men. Behind him Vaewan gave the order to bring the turrets online, and in unison the mechanized guns began an orchestra of death.

 _We can only hold this so long before our turrets are destroyed or expend their ammunition, and then what?_

* * *

" **Contact, twelve-thirty."** The steady voice belonged to Sergeant Francena Havens, seated at the M35 Mako's controls as they rolled through the underground prothean cavern. In response came one of the Mako IFV's 155mm rounds, pulverizing the batarians in a splash of blood and smoke.

" **Copy that Sarge."** Above Havens was PFC Shane Engledow in the IFV's turret with hands steadily working over the vehicle's holographic controls. In the vehicle's troop bay were stuffed the nine marines of the _Normandy's_ three fire teams, alongside Staff Sergeant Lindsey Haight, Staff Lieutenant James Vega and Ashley Williams, making for a very tight fit. It was a silent ride between the twelve marines, partly due to the strew of bodies they'd found along the way, and partly due to combat nerves.

The _Normandy_ had been in transit for weeks after fighting a brutal war, by the time they'd arrived at Ilos the marines had been beyond antsy; Ashley Williams included. She wanted to get out of the IFV and kill some of the batarian bastards with her hands, to let out some of the anger pent up inside her at the death of Shepard on the aliens—or at least to try.

" _Cowboy this is Normandy, do you copy? Over."_ Joker's voice came over the Mako's comm with a slight static.

" _ **Normandy**_ **this is Cowboy, what do you have for us?"**

" _Normandy here, Looks like some of the ships that were landed picked up and started bombing runs. We engaged best we could and knocked out most of the frigates, but some of the fighters managed to slip away—Garrus was hesitant to pursue and abandon our overwatch position on your location. If you felt any rumbling it was the bombing, but it should be over now. Over."_

" **Copy** _ **Normandy**_ **. We got the tremors but no damage. Keep up the good work. Cowboy out."**

" **Commander,"** the voice was Havens again, this time a bit of tension in the cool voice, **"path ahead is blocked. Looks like the salarians laid a trap for the batarians and collapsed the roof here. Brutes had to dig their way through single file—the mako isn't gonna be able to get through that."**

" **Understood. Engledow, any chance you could blow that rubble away with the turret?"**

" **Aye ma'am, but it'd risk bringing down more of the cavern. We don't know how bad the salarians fucked up the supports with their trap. Could bring a whole lotta rubble down on us in the process."**

" **Fuckin' great."** Ashley pitched forwards against her restraints, cupping her face with her hand in exasperation. **"Alright, fireteams alpha and bravo, grab your gear and dismount. Vega, you'll take alpha, I'll take bravo. Haight, you and charlie team will stay behind with Engledow, Havens, and the Mako. We'll radio if we need your support."**

A sigh from Sergeant Haight and Corporal Chadwell indicated the women weren't thrilled at being left behind, but neither uttered a word that strayed from a-hundred-percent obedience. The marines that Ashley had ordered into action were already securing their weapons in place and donning their helmets, ready to get out of the cramped vehicle and into action. Ashley herself was already moving down the open ramp and out into the damp cavern. The thin glass visor of her helmet glowed a soft green as it worked to illuminate the dark portions of the room, casting Ashley's face an eerie hue.

One by one the marines pressed themselves against the ancient stone walls and slipped through the gap dug by the batarians. Ashley had taken point, and as she stepped through the debris she realized why the salarians had been willing to bring down the roof—sticking out from beneath one of the blackened stones was the severed arm of a heavy combat mech. **"Shit, batarians were serious about taking this place or ruining it. They brought fuckin' mechs."**

" **Batarians are a bunch'a bastards, ma'am. Fuckin' blinks wouldn't know what to do with this place even if they could pry it from STG."** This from Corporal Worbaar, her mouth twisted into a snarl of disgust. Ashley couldn't help but chuckle to herself at the slur directed towards the batarians, in a strange way it made her feel like a grunt again.

" **Not a fan of the four eyes, ma'am?"** This, from PFC Coleman Corbridge, could hardly be said without being interrupted by amused chuckles.

The filipino marine rolled her eyes, and glanced at the younger man that was sliding through the hole after her, **"Fuckers haven't given me much of a reason to like 'em. My mom almost got vaped on Elysium during the blitz. Barely made it back to Earth alive."**

Ashley considered telling them to cut the chatter but thought better of it, they weren't in combat yet and it was letting the marines blow off some steam. **"Form up, Worbaar and bravo on me, Faunce and alpha on Vega. Stay tight, we don't know what traps the salarians might've planted that didn't get triggered."**

There was a chorus of 'aye's and 'affirmative, ma'am's from the marines as they split into their teams and returned to a still silence between them. Moving through the cavern on foot was far more arduous than it'd been with the Mako, and the scattered corpses were far more chilling now.

* * *

The attackers were relentless, even in the face of overwhelming fire and to-be-detonated mines. The forward wave of their assault had overwhelmed the forward turrets, and like beasts upon prey their soldiers had savagely torn the turrets apart. Kirrahe still had one turret behind him, though it was having to stop more and more often to cool down or risk having its barrels warp from the heat.

The batarians had just overwhelmed the first barricade, and he could see Mhiranne trying to retreat backwards. They'd started the defense with twelve STG and were now down to eight, one of whom was wounded. With mute horror Kirrahe watched as Mhiranne caught a round to his side, the mass accelerated slug punching through his body with a misty spray of green.

Kirrahe ducked down and darted forward, his right hand grabbing at the webbing of the younger man to drag him behind one of their barricades and out of the line of fire. Even as Kirrahe strained to pull the salarian to safety he could see thick green blood smearing across the stone floor. The older salarian slumped to the ground, his back against the prefab barricade while he scanned his HUD for a pulse reading on Mhiranne, but what his vitals were able to detect was the weak erratic beating of a near-death heart.

" **No!"** Kirrahe murmured as he tried to pry off the ceramic plating of his fallen comrade. He was able to procure a tube of medi-gel and already was applying one of the white combat patches to the wound. Just as the patch's adhesive was beginning to stick, Kirrahe was berated by the alarm tone of a flat-lining squadmate. **"NO!"** Though despite the salarian's shouts, he knew it was too late to do anything. He placed a round device on the fallen man's chest, the device illuminating with harsh blue light as it tried to resuscitate Mhiranne with electrical impulses—still nothing.

" **Private Mhiranne is down."** He hissed into the salarian battlenet for the six others that could still hear him, though he feared that the number of survivors was still to dwindle. Mhiranne shouldn't have even seen combat at this posting, let alone death. Hatred swelled in Kirrahe for the brutes.

Charging towards him were three batarians dressed in diverse armor, one of Blood Pack and the other two various unaligned armors of the Terminus. Kirrahe's shotgun barked twice, micro-explosives sailing into the Blood Pack soldier and one of the other two mercs, though as he turned to gun the last down he was met with the alarm of 'heatsink full'.

A momentary flash of terror told the salarian major that this was to be the end of him, but the batarian's head burst into a mangled mess of blood and shattered bone, his body slumping to the ground lifelessly. Already the other charging mercenaries were turning to face the loud crack that had taken down one of their soldiers, only to find a flurry of bullets pouring towards them. Standing on the other side of the attackers were a dozen Systems Alliance marines, striking in their blue ceramic armor, _thank the stars._

It didn't take long for the marines to chew through the batarians that were trapped between them and Kirrahe, and soon the lead marine was walking towards him. She wore brilliant blue armor, and through the faceplate he thought he recognized the features of the woman from years prior.

" **Lieutenant Commander Williams?"** Kirrahe's voice was both startled and thankful to see the familiar old face.

" **What the hell happened, Major?"**

" **We were assaulted by unidentified batarian forces, bolstered by vorcha and varren."**

" **When aren't they."** This from Sergeant Faunce, the marine warned against future outbursts via a stern gaze from Vega.

" **Were you able to preserve your work?"** Ashley was already securing her sniper rifle back on her back, her body taking a more relaxed stance while she questioned the salarian.

" **We were... though this was to be our final stand. Just behind our defensive position is a kinetic barrier that protects the bulk of our work on the Conduit. I am glad to see you and your marines, Commander Williams."**

" **We're glad to see you all in one piece—do you know how many of them are on the ground?"**

" **Sadly no. We had to retreat into the cavern to stay alive, and I'm not sure how many ships they landed. Luckily they'll be rather unable to get speedy reinforcements due to the relay predicament, though as are we."**

" **Get us to the Conduit work as quickly as you can. We need to get to work, Major."**

* * *

 _ **SSV Dunkirk,**_ **Elysium**

 **September 12th, 2186**

" **Read me the vitals again."**

" **Heart rate eighty-five BPM. BP one-twenty over eighty. O-two sats at ninety-nine percent."**

" **Brain activity?"**

" **It seems to be normal on all the monitors ma'am."**

" **Then tell me why she isn't waking up?!"**

Shepard could hear all this happening around her, but the voices seemed to blur together—as much as voices _could_ blur together. She tried to pry her eyes open and, with great effort, succeeded. Her vision was bleak, most of the images before her were washed out and running together—but she could see.

The soft beeping of machines and whirring of medical devices reminded her that she was in the ship's medbay, and with all the energy she had left she tried to speak. At first her voice was just a hoarse rasp and a cough, it was then that she realized there was a tube down her throat. She tried again though, this time managing to cough out an attempt at words, **"Mir-** " a bout of coughing interrupted her attempt at words, though she caught someone's attention. She saw the light above her shift as a figure moved towards her.

" **Shepard, can you hear me?"**

She tried to nod but felt a stiff pain in her neck, and the scrabing of the tube in her throat. The figure, from the voice she was certain it was Miranda, laid a hand on her shoulder gently. **"Stay still... We'll begin detaching you."**

The first thing Miranda did was remove the tube from her throat, to a fit of coughing from the prone Shepard. With her airway clear now she was better able to speak, and she tried again. **"Did you do it?"**

Her vision was now improving and she was able to make out the figure of Miranda rather clearly, though fine details still eluded her. She was, however, able to see the woman nod—complete with the bobbing of hair around her shoulders. **"Yes.. we managed to repair your implants with some that should continue working and fully integrate into your body. You pulled through."**


	8. Trust Goes Both Ways

_**SSV Dunkirk**_ **, Sol**

 **September 14th, 2186**

" **How's the pain?"**

Jessica Shepard rolled her left shoulder, though it took a concentrated effort to follow through with it. The joint was stiff and painful, but not debilitatingly so. She followed by flexing her arm at the elbow, her nose and mouth pinching into a wince of pain at the sensation that shot up her arm. Still the marine didn't stop the exercise in the face of the pain, but instead kept going in hopes that it'd ease off some—it didn't. **"It isn't great, but it's bearable sir."**

The marine standing in front of Steven Hackett was a striking contradiction to the woman by the same name that he'd found in London after the war. Shepard wore her deep red marine BDUs, a contrast to the background of blue uniform officers bustling behind her. Her bright red hair had been pulled back into a neat regulation ponytail and the cuts on her face had healed into muted scars or subtle scabs. Her lips were stoically pressed into a thin line, her eyes as sharp as blades—anyone who met this woman would recognize her as the Shepard of mythos.

Hackett had seen Shepard make a fast turn around like this before, most notably after Akuze. Fifty marines had touched down on the colony and only one was pulled out alive. She'd been a wreck afterwards, both mentally and physically—but anyone standing around him now would never know it. Much like Shepard pulled her BDU jacket over the disfigured scars on her shoulder, she'd pulled a cold emotional veneer over the memories. Hackett knew how long it'd taken her to find peace with Akuze, far longer than she'd admit, just as he knew that she was still processing the events of the Reaper War. He wouldn't betray that knowledge to her though, it was an unspoken pact between the two: Hackett knew how deeply things affected Shepard, and gave her the space to process it on her own time—meanwhile Shepard never let it affect her performance. **"Just don't over do it Commander. Take as much time as you need to heal."** _Both physically and mentally,_ it was all the Admiral would say on the matter.

" **I will, thank you sir."** With that Hackett saw her body language relax some, and he couldn't help but admit that he was more at ease seeing her like herself again.

The _SSV Dunkirk_ had just recently arrived in Sol after a nonstop flight from Elysium, Miranda and her doctors had been left aboard, pending debriefing on Shepard's procedure. Hackett had ordered the ship here as soon as possible in order to oversee the defense and relief of their damaged home system. **"Lieutenant Foresath, bring us in closer to the Citadel—I want to get a better look at the damage to the wards before we begin."**

" **Aye sir."**

It had been the Admiral's intention to move into the cockpit and watch their approach, but he wasn't given that chance. An unfamiliar alarm, with a shrill shout from Specialist Tess Emery on its heels, broke through the din of the CIC. The specialist had turned around in her seat and was facing Shepard and Hackett with concern on her face, **"Sir, ma'am, we have an urgent transmission coming in over the QEC. I'm putting it through in the comm room, you'll want to hurry to see this."**

All pretense of Shepard's stiff and injured limbs, and Hackett's slow methodical decorum were forgotten. The two wheeled from their former trajectory and began in a near-jog towards the comm room. If there was an emergency coming in over the QEC it could only be a few individuals. On the wall consuming screen before them was the distorted frozen image of Garrus Vakarian, standing on the captain's podium of the _Normandy_. The message began playing once they both were well within the room, and in the background of the static laden hologram were sheets of sparks with flames licking at the corners of the screen.

 _"This is Lieutenant Commander Garrus Vakarian of the SSV Normandy, we are under attack! An overwhelming number of batarian vessels emerged from FTL in the Ilos system and they're overrunning us. Our marine detachment is on the ground, we're trying to get back to them but the—"_ the image cut out for a second with only garbled electronic sounds playing before both the image and sound returned _"—unsure when we'll be able to return to support for ground team. Send all available help!"_

" **Garrus!"** The shout came from Shepard, and Hackett could see from the mix of emotions on her face that she'd blurted it before she even realize she was going to. The marine's hands were gripped around the metal railing of the comm room so tight that her knuckles had become even paler than their natural complexion, and her face was taught with worry. **"Garrus are you okay? Is anyone hurt?"**

" _I repeat, this is Lieutenant Commander Garrus Vakarian of the SSV Normandy, we are under attack!—Traynor, are you sure this is transmittin—"_ the image shook violently again, the transmission gaining several permanent lines of distorted static through the video feed _"Joker get us the fuck out of atmosphere, we're getting torn to pieces up here. This is the SSV Normandy send all availa—"_ The signal cut to a screen of colored bars and white noise, quickly replaced by Specialist Emery's voice **"The signal ended sir... That came in over your QEC with the** _ **Normandy**_ **, no one else received it."**

" **Fuck!"** Shepard's voice again, her stoic resolve melted away to thinly concealed panic.

Hackett's jaw was set as he left the communications room, shouting orders to Emery across the CIC, **"Transmit that via our QEC to Mikhailovich, tell him to spread news through the fleet and send what we have."**

" **Sir the trip to Ilos is two weeks from the fleet's current location."**

" **I realize that Specialist, but we have to do something. Tell him to rally any ships that might be absent from the fleet's rally point and are along the way."**

" **Affirmative sir."**

Hackett stopped on the captain's podium and gripped the cold metal railing in his hands. He'd gotten used to the feeling of helpless rage during the war with the Reapers, but this was almost worse. During the Reaper War the relays had been intact, and even if it was hopeless he was able to move naval forces to _try._ For the first time in his naval career he was without the relays, with marines further from Earth than he would've been comfortable with even had the relays been online. His rampant thoughts were interrupted by the Shepard's voice, something finally drawing the Commander from her silent anxieties. **"Sir, the Conduit. We could take it to Ilos."**

" **Commander?"**

" **We could use the Conduit sir. It's still somewhere on the Presidium and we could use it to go to Ilos. We could be there instantly."**

" **Wouldn't the Conduit be as badly damaged as the other relays?"**

" **The reports I've read speculated that the damage to the relays was because the blast traveled through them. The Conduit isn't part of the relay network, and it was offline at the time of the blast. It** _ **should**_ **still be intact."**

Hackett locked eyes with her and saw that the fire had returned to her gaze. Shepard was a force of nature which few had proven able to stop, and this danger to her crew had reawakened that. **"Wasn't the reason that we weren't able to use the Conduit for the past three years that it could only receive?"**

" **I remember a report at the beginning of the war saying that a joint salarian and asari science team had theorized a way to reverse the Conduit. They weren't able to test it, but all their simulations showed that it would allow the Citadel to send traffic back to Ilos."**

What Hackett had to say next was hard, not just because it wasn't what he wanted to say, but also because he knew how deeply it would stab into Shepard. **"Negative Commander. I care about the** _ **Normandy**_ **as much as you do, but I can't sign off on sending naval or marine assets through an untested device like that—we're as likely to lose them instantly as we are to save anyone from the Normandy."**

Shepard took on a perfect stillness, her jaw set in place in a way Hackett assumed meant she was swallowing all the words of anger she wished to retort with. Slowly her head nodded, her eyes never breaking contact with his, **"Yes sir."** The words were as cold as ice, and he knew that in her heart she felt betrayed. It was the nature of their relationship, he occasionally had to make the hard calls that she wouldn't. Finally she broke her gaze and stepped away, moving to talk to one of the CC station officers in what he could only assume was an attempt to take her mind off the _Normandy._

* * *

 _ **SSV Normandy**_ **, Ilos**

 **September 14th, 2186**

There was a tense atmosphere among the crew of the _Normandy._ They'd been holding position over Ilos for three days now, most of which was spent idly above the Conduit facility maintaining overwatch for the ground team there. There were several airborne batarian ships left, mostly fighters with only a frigate having escaped, but pursuit hadn't been worth it for the _Normandy._

The past twelve hours had seen a departure in normal behavior for the surviving ships though, as they'd sacrificed one of the previously two surviving frigates, and two fighters, running strafing attacks against the Alliance frigate. At first it'd seemed like indiscriminate attacks, but where Garrus had thought he'd seen a pattern Lieutenant Arnette had confirmed the existence of one.

Each attack wave seemed not designed to inflict maximum damage on the _Normandy,_ but rather to instigate pursuit. At first they'd been sly about it, and had settled for beating up on the frigate before retreating when the _Normandy_ hadn't pursued far. The second time they'd lost their frigate trying to pull the human ship away from the planet and into space. Arnette had confirmed that she saw the pattern too, and that each time they pulled back she caught a tight beam signal transmission into deep space from one of the frigates.

The existence of the pattern had been enough for Garrus to put the ship on high alert, and it was in that tense state that he tersely watched the blackness of space in. Behind him, in the CIC, he could hear the hustle of officers making for their duty stations but his eyes were locked on space now. Suddenly Garrus' attention was ripped back to the situation inside the ship when a series of alarms began to cry out. He turned to Joker, silently asking the pilot for an explanation. **"Uhh sir!"** Garrus hated it when Joker looked nervous, **"The alerts are FTL departure alerts—we've got a lot of Hegemony ships inbound!"**

Garrus moved as fast as he could through the hall connecting the bridge to the CIC, pushing past the crowd of officers to get back to his podium. **"Someone get me a sitrep!"**

" **Sir!"** this was Sensors Lieutenant Mangin **"We've got at least six large Hegemony signatures... sensors are indicating that there's two two** _ **Kes'heel**_ **-Class Cruisers and four** _ **Yu'Garr**_ **-Class Frigates, with dozens of fighters between them."**

" **Shit..."** The word came out on his breath, silently to all but those close to him.

" **Looks like they've got signs of having taken damage, but our readings are saying they're fully fit for battle—it's probably cosmetic leftovers from fleeing Hegemony space during the invasion."**

" **Traynor, tell them to leave!"**

" **Aye sir..."** The Specialists hands were a blur of movement as she brought up the comm and hailed the ships, **"Attention Hegemony Vessels, this is Systems Alliance warship** _ **Normandy.**_ **You are in a restricted fly zone and are not permitted to enter the system at present. Break course and depart this area immediately, over."**

There was a tense silence in the CIC as everyone waited for what was sure to be an aggressive reply from the batarians, but there was nothing. Finally Traynor's soft voice spoke up again, **"Sir... they're making no attempts to establish a connection with us."**

Without warning the ship was rocked by a devastating tremor, and duty stations began to scream with alarms. Garrus had to brace himself as he felt Joker peeling them away from where they'd been, and he only did just catch Lieutenant Chinnock shouting **"Sir that was a hit! One of the** _ **Kes'heels**_ **fired on us, our shields absorbed it but it hurt bad. Shields are at eighty-percent right now and shaky."**

The ship rocked again, this time less violently, as they took lighter fire from the fighters. He could hear the familiar dull buzz of GARDIAN lasers outside the ship swatting at the fighters, and felt the slight shudder each time a missile dislodged itself from the _Normandy_ and sought an enemy target. Still, the status hologram in front of him was showing him just how outmanned they were.

" **Fuck, torpedo inbound!"** This was Mangin again, and Garrus thought his stomach might give way when Joker bottomed them out into a downward roll to avoid the torpedo. Gardian lasers desperately swatted at it, but a hard shudder along the whole ship told Garrus that evading the torpedo had been what the batarians had wanted them to do. They'd known the frigate would swat the torpedo away, but had predicted the vector that the ship would take in its evasion and had already set targeting ranges—two heavy rounds from each of the _Kes'heels_ smacked along their dorsal hull. Chinnock was shouting something about shield status, but Garrus wasn't even listening.

" **Traynor transmit on all Alliance frequencies—QECs included."** Her nod told Garrus that she both heard and was working on it, and a moment later he saw the hologram in front of him switch into a spotty communications display. **"This is Lieutenant Commander Garrus Vakarian of the SSV Normandy, we are under attack! An overwhelming number of batarian vessels emerged from FTL in the Ilos system and they're overrunning us. Our marine detachment is on the ground, we're trying to get back to them but them but airspace immediately above them is overwhelmed by hostiles. I am unsure when we'll be able to return to support for ground team. Send all available help!"**

Garrus thought he saw the flicker of a green light for a moment on the transmission, meaning that it was being received, but it returned to an uncertain yellow only moments later—he didn't even know if anyone was listening.

" **I repeat, this is Lieutenant Commander Garrus Vakarian of the SSV Normandy, we are under attack!—Traynor, are you sure this is transmitting—"** He was almost thrown from the podium as another round hit them, this time from one of the frigates. **"Joker get us the fuck out of atmosphere, we're getting torn to pieces up here. This is the SSV Normandy send all available help to the Ilos system, we are overwhelmed!"**

He motioned at her to kill the transmission and clung to the railing best he could. Shepard had given him the _Normandy_ in her death, and he was going to let her down the first time he saw combat with it.

* * *

" **Damnit, hostiles!"** Lindsey Haight was hauling back towards the Mako as fast as she could, legs burning from the sudden burst of athletics needed to avoid being shot. Down the cavern from her in the direction they'd come was a caravan of enemy armor, and it seemed to be heading in her direction. Leading the way was either a batarian APC or tank, and behind it she saw at least one heavy mech. Dispersed between the two war machines were at least a dozen batarian foot soldiers, and all of them were firing at her. **"Get inside the Mako, we got hostiles and we're BOXED."**

The Staff Sergeant dove inside the Mako and felt her knee catch one of the seats, sending her sprawling across the metal grated floor. Already the IFV was coming alive and moving to a better position, but there wasn't much of a position to move to. **"Shit, fuck, damn."** This was Havens, the Sergeant unaware of where exactly to take them that was any safer than where they already were. Englewood on the other hand knew exactly what was needed of him and had the Mako's machine guns roaring at the enemy. It had some effect in cutting down the foot soldiers, but the kinetic barriers on the larger vehicles made it ineffective—only the 155mm saw any traction there, and its slow rate of fire spelled death for them.

" **Aye Sarge,"**

" **Yeah Englewood?"**

" **I'm thinkin' only way we buy ourselves time is take after the salarians an' bring down the roof 'tween us an' them."**

" **The roof that's already weakened by the salarians doing just that?"**

"' **Mean ma'am what else are we gonna do?"**

" **Do it."** this from Haight, her face hard as stone. **"We don't have another option."**

The Mako was nearing firing range from the heavy mech now, and if Englewood couldn't collapse the roof in time they would be fucked. The IFV shuddered as he fired the turret, and then a piercing alarm could be heard from the gunner's seat as he short-cycled the turret and fired it again while hot. **"You know that shit warps the barrel, right Englewood?"**

" **Aye sarge, but I figured gettin' shot in the ass ain't real good for the barrel either. Y'figure?"**

To Englewood's credit, the two shots had pierced enough of the facility's roof to collapse a sizeable amount of debris between the batarians and them. _For now._

* * *

Sweat streaked down Ashley Williams' face, infuriatingly masked behind her helmet so that she couldn't wipe it away. The cavern was heating up,likely from the new collapse and the above ground bombardments. The heat made Ashley's skin feel hot and sticky as she ran across the stone floor towards where they'd left the Mako, but she pushed aside the discomfort. The batarians had gotten reinforcements faster than any of them had thought they'd be able to, and those reinforcements were actively trying to swamp the Mako—with Ashley's marines aboard.

She'd left most of the marines behind to guard the salarians, but she'd taken Vega and Worbaar with her to backup the Mako's marines. They'd lost communication with the Mako moments before, she assumed from some sort of mobile comms jamming, and that'd set her nerves on edge. They'd broken into an all out run now trying to crest the last hill that separated them from the Mako.

Already she could hear the popping of small arms fire ahead, but the pile of rubble they'd had to slip past meant she couldn't see who was shooting more. Ash was pressing herself against the wall, ceramic scraping against stone, when she heard the distinct sound of the Mako's machine guns. It sounded like the gun's rate of fire was able to rip the air itself, but she didn't know what exactly what it was they were shooting at. Her body shimmied through the hole and she could see the mess that they were in: a pile of rubble had delayed the batarians but it hadn't been in a place where they could totally block off access. Instead the batarians were both picking their way through the rubble and coming over it.

" **Shiiiit!"** The word came out like a hiss as Ashley saw the Mako's gun mow through a pack of varren, only to have to stop firing from heat and miss killing a second pack. The marine pulled her Valkyrie from off her back and instinctively drew it up to fire, even as the rifle was still unfolding itself. Two bursts cut down the first two beasts, and the second splattered across the ground from a well aimed burst of Vega's assault rifle.

" **Nice shot."** This from Cyzilie Worbaar as she brought her light machine gun to bear on the charging hordes. The Mako was trying to jockey itself to a more defensible position while its machine guns cooled down—which looked like it might take a bit from the bright red of their barrels. Unlike the choke point that the salarians had managed to collapse, the pile that Englewood had caused was from shooting out one of the support beams above them—which had caused the right wall to collapse inward on itself and obstruct the batarians.

A pack of varren and vorcha had climbed over the pile of rubble near the intact wall and were already peppering the Mako's quickly waning shields. The IFV's turret came spinning around, sighting in on them, and it was then that Ash realized what Englewood was doing. **"Englewood don't you fuc—"** the PFC had already been pulling the trigger when Ashley called out to him, and she wasn't even able to finish her command.

The sound of the Mako's turret was deafening, and immediately the marines were engulfed in a cloud of smoke and dust coming from where the wall once had been. She felt pieces of debris smacking against her hardsuit, small shards biting at the exposed skin of her mouth and cheeks. **"Godda—aagh!"** She felt a large chunk of concrete smack against her shoulder and knock her to the ground, more small stones raining down on her prone form.

* * *

 _ **SSV Dunkirk**_ **, Citadel Docks-Zakera Ward**

 **September 14th, 2186**

" **Murphy,"** Shepard put an intentional blade to her voice, hoping to ride her reputation and spur the Chief into quicker action, **"What're we looking like?"**

The Commander stood over the Ops Chief's shoulder in _Dunkirk's_ CIC, the latter stooped over his terminal with a durable OSD protruding from it, **"I.. I'm trying to get it all down ma'am. It's one thing to download it but I have to design it so that the OSD automatically executes the exploit when it's mounted—"**

" **Why do you need the extra step?"**

" **Err... Ma'am.."** Murphy looked visibly uncomfortable, **"I don't mean to be rude at all ma'am, but do you understand how to reverse the current on an eezo core, and how to walkthrough a systems exploit on a Prothean OS?"**

" **Point taken, Chief."**

" **What is this for ma'am? Didn't the Admiral say we were'—"**

" **He asked me for options."** The answer was a lie, but Murphy didn't need the truth anyways. He just needed to get her the damn OSD.

" **Do you want me to hail him on the comm when it's done, ma'am? He's out in the ward but we could probably hail him."**

" **That won't be necessary, Chief. I'll handle that."**

" **Yes ma'am. It'll be another ten minutes or so before I have the OSD prepared for you..."**

Shepard could tell in the inflection of the boy's voice that he was asking—no, _begging—_ for the XO to leave him to his work alone. Shepard smiled a little, she frightened him. **"Aye Chief. Call me over as soon as it's done."**

It was just as well that the data would take a minute, she had another job to do. Hackett had ordered fireteam kodiak to accompany him into Zakera Ward later, but he'd left both the marine Staff LT, Staff Sergeant, and fireteam grizzly behind to guard the ship. She'd peeled away from Murphy's station and was just now coming around the curved staircase that led from the _Dunkirk's_ CIC to its crew deck. In a moment she'd be in the elevator headed down towards the cargo bay to seek out volunteers, but something stopped her before she could. Hackett had been standing beside the staircase in a position that hid him from sight until she was off the stairs, and only then he'd revealed himself by placing a hand on her shoulder.

The younger woman wheeled around, fright on her face but her hands still. A momentary flash of cold tension threatened to bloom across her face, but she kept her expression neutral. Hackett's eyes immediately sought out her own and he caught her in an intense stare, **"Whatever you're going to do, don't miss."**

Her brows knit themselves into a skeptical line, confusion blossoming in her eyes. **"Sir?"**

" **I can't authorize anything, and I can't give you any speedy support if you get into trouble, but I know you're not going to sit still. Go bring our people home, but don't miss."**

An eruption of emotions that Shepard couldn't describe welled inside her, and immediately her gaze softened. She'd felt like Hackett stabbed her with a dagger of ice on the CIC when he'd benched her plan to save her crew, but now she understood. Her only plan for saving them was a risky one, one that involved untested equipment and had a high chance of leaving everyone involved dead—and he couldn't ask any marines to take on that risk. Still, their relationship from a decade of working together had fostered a firm trust between the two soldiers. Knowing that he was giving her his blessing lifted a weight she didn't previously realize had been on her shoulders, relief that she'd desperately needed.

From the bottom of her vision she noted that he'd drawn his hand from his pocket and extended it towards her. Shepard met his extended hand with a firm grip, **"Thank you sir. I won't miss."**

" **I know you won't."** She felt something cold press into her palm but didn't dare look at it yet. Instead she silently accepted the gift and pulled her hand away, clutching it in her fist. **"Whatever you do, I don't want to know. Let me be surprised."** With that the 52-year-old Fleet Admiral broke away from her and continued through the crew deck, destined for other duties Shepard couldn't guess at.

Left alone in the middle of the hall she opened her hand, finding that Hackett had returned her old damaged dogtags to her. She'd gotten some prefab tags that'd been quickly engraved with her name and service number, but to have her N7 tags returned to her brought on a wave of nostalgia. A piece of string tied around the tags' chain bore a paper tag with a series of letters and numbers on it. She recognized it as the naming / designating system used for supply crates aboard alliance warships, and made a mental note to investigate the cargo deck later.

While she'd been looking over the tags Shepard had boarded the _Dunkirk's_ small crew elevator and descended to the cargo bay. Both Staff Lieutenant Donnel and Staff Sergeant Romez were lingering around the kennel as she'd hoped. Romez was toying with a half-assembled Avenger while Donnel sat across two lockers and shot shit with the former. Shepard could tell from her past interactions with the men that they were good friends, and that made what she was about to ask much easier.

A stiff pain shot through Shepard's hip with each step she took, and she realized that the adrenaline from Garrus' message had been fueling her on without even noticing how sore her freshly-operated on body was. The pain could be tucked away to be dealt with later though, she'd been through worse—the acid gnarled skin on her shoulder proved such. Lieutenant Donnel seemed to spot that she was headed for the pair of them, and he instinctively stiffened into a salute—prompting Sergeant Romez to do the same. Shepard just waved her hand dismissively and smiled at them, **"Dismissed, you don't need to salute every time I step near you. If I made you do that every time I came down here to check in on the crew you'd be able to skip PT for a week."** The men seemed to relax some but were still visibly wary—not yet accustomed to their friendly XO.

" **You two are the ones that found me in London, right? The ones that pulled me out of the wreckage?"**

Donnel nodded proudly, **"Aye ma'am. I'm sorry we couldn't save Admiral Anderson, we did all we could but he was already gone. Are you feeling alright ma'am?"**

The sides of Shepard's mouth drew nearer as her smile shrank, her overall demeanor a little sadder for the mention of Anderson's name. **"Anderson was dead before we got back to London, it's not your fault. I do appreciate your efforts though, both for Anderson and myself. I'm feeling alright myself, they had to patch me up a little but I'm back in fighting shape."** That was a lie but she didn't need to admit as much. If Dr. Chakwas heard her mention going back into combat in her current condition the severity of her tone would violate the Geneva Convention. She brought some warmth to her smile and looked between the two men, this was the hard part of what she was going to have to do. **"Have either of you heard the news from Ilos"**

An intense emotion came over Romez's face at the mention, and this time it was the Sergeant to speak up. **"You mean about the** _ **Normandy,**_ **ma'am?"**

Even as clearly angry as he was about the situation Romez still managed to keep some decorum, she liked that in a marine. Shepard nodded her head with a soft _mhmmm_ , eagerly awaiting Romez's reaction so she knew how to structure her request.

" **I have ma'am."** His voice was hard and angry, she could tell he didn't like sitting still or playing EMS. " **You were** _ **Normandy's**_ **CO during the war, right ma'am?"**

Again she only nodded, though this time she played up the emotions she felt internally on her face. She'd put on her proverbial war paint now, and she'd heard from both an ex-wife and Ashley that it was near impossible to discern anything through the icy expression.

" **I hate being trapped here, doing police and medic work on an alien space station while they're trapped out there. The fucking blinks are like animals."**

The marine looked like he was almost ready to put a fist through the bulkhead at being proverbially benched while marines were under fire. Marines were a close knit group, even when it came to marines outside of your division or ones that you'd never served alongside. **"I don't intend to just sit still."**

The words had a certain weight to them, and it took a concentrated effort to breathe life into them. She knew that Hackett had given her his blessing, but she planned to keep that need-to-know for deniability's sake on his part.

" **Ma'am?"** This was Donnel, obviously the more even tempered of them. **"Aren't all the relays down? It's why we didn't immediately depart when we got the message. Soonest we could get there would be three weeks."**

" **There's another way."** Shepard knew that what she was about to say, what she was going to suggest these marines undertake, was insane. The only saving grace about it is that she wouldn't ask a single one of them to take on something that she wouldn't be taking on herself. **"I don't know if you've read the mission reports from the original Battle of the Citadel in 2183, but my team found a prototype Prothean-made relay on Ilos. We call it the Conduit, and it's a direct link to the Citadel."**

" **Right ma'am. You followed Saren through it and managed to take back control of the Citadel. It's how we got the arms back open."**

" **Correct. The problem with the Conduit is that it was only designed to be a one way trip from Ilos to the Citadel—the one on the Citadel itself doesn't have the necessary programming or calculations to make a return jump. With that said, right before the start of the war I picked up an intel report that the salarians and asari had developed an experimental algorithm to reverse the Conduit and make it two-way. With the start of the war galactic focus was shifted elsewhere and they never tested it, but they ran dozens of simulations that all panned out. I'm planning to upload it to the Conduit and travel through it to Ilos to bail out my crew, and I would appreciate marines at my back. With that said I won't pull rank on you and make it an order, and there's no sha-"**

" **I'll start prepping my gear ma'am."** Romez's voice cut her off before she'd even been able to finish assuring them that they didn't have to. **"Fireteam grizzly has your back ma'am."**

" **Aye, I'll start pulling on my hardsuit ma'am."** Donnel hadn't even hesitated to agree with Romez, and their trust in her warmed Shepard's heart.

" **I appreciate your support gentlemen. Know that you aren't being pressured into this, and if you change your mind I won't seek repercussions or shame you for it—but once we set out for the Conduit there's no going back, I don't leave my men behind."** Shepard's service record had largely become marine mythology for those who knew the name. Many who served alongside would trade stories amongst themselves during downtime, detailing stories of Elysium, Akuze or Torfan. For all the elaboration the marines brought to the tales, there were pieces of truth scattered in. No matter what age she lived to be, even if her memory escaped her in late life, Shepard knew that she'd carry the horrid sights of Akuze to her grave. The bone chilling screams of stoic marines that she'd seen boil in acid weren't something easily purged from memory.

Likewise Torfan would stick with her to the grave. There'd been no purity or innocence in Shepard's heart from the moment that she signed on for the operation. Legally Hackett shouldn't have even let her go, all of her medical and psych reports suggested extended time off, despite her ability to mask their accuracy. It'd been another time that Hackett had known what Shepard was capable of and had given her more leeway than a by-the-books CO should have. The names of all the men that'd died serving under or alongside her on Elysium haunted Shepard for many nights; Torfan was a chance to get revenge for them. The horrors that she'd committed that day could've ended in Court Martial had anyone spoken out, and they'd lost all but a quarter of the men that she and Major Kyle brought with them. For his part in the matter Major Kyle had suffered a psychotic break and fled society to start a biotic cult, and she'd been forced to put a round through his skull—the only regret that haunted her from the entire ordeal of Torfan.

" **You wouldn't need to pull rank on me, ma'am. Those are marines they're attacking, our brothers and sisters. If I knew how to work the Conduit there wouldn't be any way you could pin me down."** This from Romez again.

" **Thank you."** She took a moment to just pause and breathe a sigh of relief. Much of the tension that had seized her body an hour earlier was gone, replaced by a resolve to save her friends. **"I'll signal you when it's time, but we'll need to move fast. We'll take the Mako, and we'll have a moment before the CIC realizes it's gone, but then they'll try and stop us."**

" **Guess we'll just have to haul ass then, won't we ma'am?"**

" **We will indeed."**

As if on queue, Shepard's omnitool chirped to let her know she'd received a message. A quick glance at the arm mounted device told her that Operations Chief Murphy was done with his part of the mission. Shepard stepped backwards in preparation to take her leave from the two marines, **"Excuse me gentlemen, I have some last minute preparations."**

It'd only taken a few minutes to weave a path through the _Dunkirk_ to Chief Murphy's terminal on the CIC. Though it'd been years since she'd served aboard the _Normandy SR-1_ the floorplan of the ship was still burned into her memory, and the _Dunkirk_ could've been an exact replica of the older ship. The young and slightly pudgy technician was still seated at his terminal, though now he had the portable OSD guarded in his hand.

" **I finished the burn ma'am. It should auto-execute as soon as you mount it, though whatever you mount it with will need to be networked to the Conduit—if the Admiral lets us."**

" **Thank you Chief, I appreciate it—and I appreciate your discretion."**

The younger man was quick to hand over the OSD to her, he was quite obviously frightened by the clandestine nature of the work he'd performed. She was pretty sure that he was afraid of her too, afraid of the possibility that she was defying Hackett, and wanted nothing to do with it. She was fine with that, it was better that he want to distance himself rather than delaying her with more useless conversation—she needed to prepare for what was coming.

Now was the matter of her gear, but she had a nifty suspicion about that. Her old kit had been destroyed in the blast and she hadn't had a chance to get new gear since—and that was where she suspected Hackett's note came into play. She retraced her steps from the CIC to the cargo bay and began to sift through the _Dunkirk's_ cargo. It didn't take long for her to find the crate matching Hackett's note, and to her amusement there was a subtle N7 emblem atop the crate. The crate carried a full set of N7 Specialist armor, alongside a full stock of weapons. She suspected that he'd had this requisitioned for her while they were at port on Elysium, but a small item tucked into the top of the crate brought a wide smile to her face. Resting against her ceramic breastplate was a small hatchet, built in the same self-folding style of system alliance weapons, with a simple note tied to its handle: _Don't miss._

It felt good to fasten the pieces of armor over her body once again, her muscle memory mindlessly placing each plate reassured her that nothing had _truly_ changed. The armor felt truly comfortable, and it supported her sore body in a way she hadn't felt since Hammer's charge on the London conduit. For a moment Ashley's face, coated in thick red blood and soot flashed through her mind. That was the last time that she'd seen the woman, screaming and cursing her as she pushed her into Garrus' arms for safety. _I'm coming Ash._

" **Wouldn't wanna charge the gates of hell with anyone else, ma'am. I've seen a few N7s in action, that red stripe might as well be painted with blood."**

Flickering apparitions of those who had died during her career shrouded Shepard's mind, batarians scattered on the streets of Illyria and the caves of Torfan, her entire platoon screaming in time-muted voices as a thresher maw sprayed them with acid. She saw Kaidan Alenko's stupidly genuine smile staring at her when she'd left him to save Ashley. She'd known in her mind that she would save him, it had been a _reality_ for her that she would save him, right up until the bomb took his life in a brilliant flash of light. He'd been a nice boy, one that deserved a proper funeral. Romez was right, she had painted her stripes in blood—and she was about to add more to the collection. **"I just thought it went well with my hair."**

A few of the nervous marines let out quiet laughs at the comment, _good—they need to laugh now, because I'm not sure this will even work._ She was now fully armored, save for the helmet which she would secure in transit, and it was time to go. She led the way into the already-open IFV and jerked her head at them to follow her. **"Mount up boys."**

* * *

The cold winds of uncertainty whipped at Steven Hackett as he tried to piece out what would come next. It wasn't in regards to the Citadel and relays, nor the Council that he was speculating—rather it was to Commander Shepard he was uncertain of. He'd shaped and guided her career since she was fresh out of the academy, and he'd seen her grow both as a woman and as a soldier—but there was one streak of herself that she'd kept all these years. Shepard was fiercely loyal to her men, be they her marines or her crew, and when their fate was put in the balance he couldn't ever accurately predict what she'd do. He'd seen a similar shade of it on Torfan, a lethal young woman fueled by rage and revenge for those she'd lost on Elysium. He'd seen it when the Council had grounded her during the hunt for Sovereign, and he knew that he was about to see it again.

Whatever faction of batarians had chosen to attack Ilos had endangered the _Normandy_ and its crew, both of which she'd grown to care about. She'd decided that she could save them, and he knew that she would do whatever she could to make it a reality. What he wasn't sure about was how she'd do it.

She was a hatchet that Hackett could swing viciously towards any enemy and know that they'd fall, but he knew that there were times it'd swing wildly on its own. Were this another point in time, a point where the Alliance had a firm government and everything was smoothly following standard operating procedure, he might have tried to keep her in line—but this wasn't one of those times. Hackett knew that he could probably stop whatever it was that she was going to do, but if you tried to stop the hatchet while it swung wildly there was a chance that it'd rip through you on the way to its target. Hackett might could've stopped her, but there was no telling that both of them would walk away from it had he tried—so instead he'd followed his gut. Over a decade Shepard had earned his trust through performance, she deserved this from him.

Despite himself Hackett smiled at the facial expression of the young Serviceman running towards him. The boy looked thoroughly frightened and confused, while also looking terrified that he might drop the datapad clutched in his fingers. **"Admiral sir!"** The boy popped a quick salute out of habit and began stumbling over himself to explain to Hackett what was happening. **"I uh—the** _ **Dunkirk**_ **is reporting that there was an unauthorized deployment of the onboard Mako. No one was able to locate the XO to tell her, and erm—"** he stopped to take a deep shaky breath, **"They weren't able to find the Staff Lieutenant or the Staff Sergeant, I, uh, they sent me to, uh, inform you sir! Is the XO okay sir?"**

The boy clearly knew who Shepard was, and he seemed a tad frightened by her—the thought amused Hackett. He remembered meeting Shepard when she'd been little older than this boy, and near his same rank. At the time _she'd_ been afraid of him. **"The XO is fine, son. Tell the ship to stand down, the marines might have taken the Mako out for an emergency evacuation—it is well suited for that kind of thing."**

" **I—yes sir! Erm the Masters-At-Arms said she thought the Mako might have been taken by the XO, sir."**

" **That's entirely possible."**

" **You said stand the ship down sir?"**

" **Aye son."**

" **Yes s-sir!"**

The young man disappeared as quickly as he'd arrived, and Hackett was left with a humble amusement. She'd stolen the Mako and was no doubt making for the Conduit, hell only knew how she would activate it once she got there. The Admiral squeezed his eyes closed and uttered a silent prayer that he wouldn't have to put pieces of her back together after this. _Trust goes both ways. Don't miss, Shepard._


	9. The Butcher of Torfan

**Citadel Docks-Zakera Ward**

 **September 14th, 2186**

Though she'd been aboard during the blast, getting to see the damage the Citadel had sustained was surreal for Shepard. _She_ had been the one that caused this, in the simplest of terms—she had physically pulled the trigger of her pistol and shattered the energy conduit with the intent of firing the Crucible. The decision had been made for her by the Reapers and the Catalyst, and firing the Crucible had saved trillions of lives, but the gun had been in her hand nonetheless. The memories of that horrific night were still seared onto her psyche, though not clearly. According to the marine doctors who'd treated her injuries back in London she'd been concussed when they found her (no surprise), and everything after Harbinger's blast was like a blurry dream to her. She remembered shooting Anderson, she remembered killing the Illusive Man, she remembered the Catalyst appearing to her like the little boy from London, and she remembered the blast—but trying to call up any of those memories left her head uncomfortably swimming.

The Citadel port that _Dunkirk_ had docked at was near the Presidium, so Shepard and her marines had little ways to travel to reach their destination. Navigating the IFV through what'd once been the most prestigious avenues on the Citadel was uncomfortable, but that paled in comparison to the sights. She'd known that there had been extensive damage to the Wards, but it wasn't until now that she saw Tayseri Ward was _gone,_ with only a mangled limb of what'd once been its supports left behind. A closer look revealed the Ward floating in the distance, high enough that it'd been trapped in orbit. The Ward hadn't ever truly recovered from Sovereign's attack in 2183, and she doubted many survivors would be found by rescuers.

Shepard had expected the damage to the Citadel, but what surprised her was seeing patches of clean repairs. However many keepers died in the blast didn't seem to slow them any, and already the strange green aliens were at work maintaining their station. It was unknown exactly where their source of repair material was, or how sizeable it was, but it seemed yet to have been replenished. The keepers had also removed almost all the bodies that were no doubt strewn about during the blast, as they always had in the Citadel's operation to be dissolved in protein reclamation vats.

" **Mother of Christ..."** exclaimed Sergeant Rishi Snider, though Shepard wasn't familiar enough with the marines to identify him, **"The Presidium took the blast hard, there's hardly a surface here that isn't charred or warped."**

His fellow marines chimed in with a mixed note of agreement, and the IFV was engulfed by another painfully still silence. She silently wondered if anyone on the Presidium had survived, knowing the only way she'd done as much was to evacuate the station. She had half-walked half-crawled back to the beam, while dragging Anderson behind her. It'd been one of the most painful experiences of her life, and each passing moment had been filled with a certain doom that the station would finally blow and take her with it. She'd known even at the time, with one arm wrapped around Anderson, that he was dead. She'd known that dragging him to safety with her would do him no good, and that it very well may have cost Shepard her life, but she'd do it all the same even now. David Anderson had been a friend, a father, and a comrade to her at different times during her career. He'd been a pillar of support in her most chaotic hours, and he deserved to find his rest on Earth.

She could tell they were getting close to the Conduit, and the thought brought a nervous tension to her stomach. She'd cleared all possible hurdles so far, but one remained: the Conduit could fail to work, or kill them in the process. With one final turn she brought the IFV in front of the Conduit, _now is the time._ She pulled the OSD from a pouch on her belt, pushing aside the anxiety in her gut, and shoved it into the Mako's console. A soft chime brought her attention to the Mako's central screen that showed fast moving lines of text which she assumed represented the running processes.

For long minutes the Conduit remained unchanging, even while the exploit scrolled away in front of her, and her fears that the plan might fall apart began to return. _Is this it? I succeeded in getting a team, getting a hack, and getting all the way here only for it not to work?_

Without warning the entire platform began to tremble, and what water was left in the decorative pond beneath them was rippling. A bright light washed over her as the Conduit itself came alive, and a brilliant blue glow flashed inside its spinning core. Tendrils of purplish energy cracked around the Conduit like lightning, though with time it settled into more of what she was used to from a relay—though still rather clearly less stable. In front of her on the Mako's screen teh text had stopped with a single line that read ' _Complete_ ', and Shepard sighed. **"It's now or never..."**

She'd only meant the words to be heard by herself, but from behind her came **"Not the kinda thing that makes me warm and fuzzy when it comes from the woman about to drive me into a fuckin' space slingshot, ma'am.** " Despite the tension in Romez's voice she could still hear the typical humor in his voice.

Shepard floored the Mako's accelerator, and felt the IFV kick and lurch underneath her as it roared to life. Just as they were about to reach the Conduit she fired the boosters and carried them up into it, unsure how it would react if she just drove into the artifact. The Conduit wrapped its tendrils of energy around them and then they were gone. Suddenly it felt like the Universe had no bottom. She was still in the Mako, but it felt like she and the Mako might drift forever if they fell from the Conduit's grip. She was simultaneously freezing and nauseous, and it was hard to tell how long she'd felt like that. Luckily for her she'd been through the Conduit once, and knew what to expect from it, but it hardly lessened the impact. The feeling was similar to certain drugs she'd experimented with in her youth, stretching time out so that experiences that were only a few seconds old felt like distant memories.

As abruptly as the transition into the Conduit had been, they were suddenly thrown from it. In an instant the surreal experience was over and the Mako was tumbling through the air aimlessly. Already she could feel her head being thrown into the interior compartment, and she threw up her hands wildly in defense. With her mind imagined the barrier she needed, around both her and the marines. With the speed the Mako was taking on, if she wasn't successful in her barrier there could be serious injuries when they hit the ground. It'd been weeks at the minimum since she'd used biotics, and she was terrified the control might not come back to her, but her performance didn't disappoint.

An old familiar bluish-purple field took hold of her, and she hoped the marines behind her as well, not a moment too soon. Seconds later she felt the Mako smack into the ground with a bone shaking crash, and then begin rolling. It'd kept enough momentum from its flight that the IFV flipped up into the air a few times during its roll, coming back to crash painfully against the ground each time. The energy required to hold her and the others in place grew with each crash, and her body was growing increasingly weary, but Shepard found energy deep within her to hold on—she couldn't let go yet.

Finally the tumbling stopped with the Mako still rolled onto its side, and Shepard was able to slowly release her barriers. Her breath was ragged when the biotic hold was released, and she could feel sweat covering her forearms. **"Sitrep!"**

" **Big bird here ma'am."** Donnel.

" **Little bird alive and well ma'am."** Romez.

" **Grizzly one here ma'am."** Snider.

" **Grizzly two here ma'am."** Rees.

" **Grizzly three here ma'am.** " Jensen.

From their voices Shepard wouldn't have known the ordeal the marines had just gone through, and she wondered if she too gave off that sense of false calm. More importantly though, they were alive and awake. The hard part was over—killing batarians was the easy part.

* * *

 **The Conduit, Ilos**

 **September 14th, 2186**

 _This operation is a shit show_ , mused Amina Faunce, and she wasn't ever sure what was coming around the next corner. Finding batarians on Ilos had been a surprise, finding the salarians cornered had been a surprise, and getting corned _themselves_ had been a surprise—Amina was sick of things not going according to plan at this point. She was one of the few original Marines from Shepard's time commanding the _Normandy,_ most of the other 8 had died during the fight for London. There were a few others that'd survived besides her, Worbaar and Chadwell notably, but most of the marines that surrounded her were fresh faced kids that she'd never seen before.

Amina was settled onto a crate near the Conduit at the very end of the Prothean tunnel complex, she'd taken most of the salarians back to this point where they could continue their research and be as far from the attackers as possible. A few more of her men had set up sentry posts along the tunnel but were prepared to fall back at a moment's notice. Presently she had her Typhoon resting across her lap while she scrubbed at a patch of grime fused to her barrel that wouldn't seem to come loose. The young marine Sergeant had a metal tool in her right hand, scraping as hard as she could against the offending debris, while her left hand steadied the light machine gun.

Without any sort of warning the ground beneath her feet started to rumble ominously. With each passing second the tremors became more intense, and the stone floor began to visibly shake. **"What the** _ **fuck?**_ **"** The voice belonged to the young Coleman Corbridge nearby her. He'd been seated at a prop up table with a few other marines, the group of them playing a card game to pass the time. Corbridge was on his feet now, backpedaling away from the Conduit as fast as he could. Corbridge was only dressed in his blue BDUs and armed with his sidearm, which was now in his hand and pointed back towards something behind her.

The commotion and fear in the young man drove Amina to her feet to investigate, only to see that the Conduit had come alive with some kind of vibrant energy. Terrifying tendrils of energy cracked all around it like distorted lightning, and she saw the salarians who had been studying it nearby fleeing as fast as they could. **"What the fuck did you guys do?"**

" **Nothing Sergeant!"** this from a salarian woman in the white coat of a technician. **"We weren't even interfacing with the Conduit presently, it just came alive. It's similar to the way a relay would come alive when receiving a transmission but..."**

" **But?"** Amina's voice was sharp with fear, and she too had her sidearm aimed at the Conduit now.

" **But the Conduit isn't supposed to be able to transmit this way. The Conduit was only ever mono-directional, from here to the Citadel."**

" **This would be the fucking day, wouldn't it?"** A second later something came flying from the Conduit at breakneck speeds, twisting and flipping through the air like an angered child had thrown it. As it drew nearer she recognized the incoming object as an M35 Mako, though the information barely had time to register as she ran for cover. **"Get clear!"**

" **Is that a goddamn Mako?!"** The award for most obvious exclamation of the day went to PFC Aldrick Evans. The young green marine had pressed to the cavern's floor behind a supply crate, but was peeking out to watch the vehicle fall. To the marine's credit, Amina herself was still trying to figure out how and why the Mako had come flying out of the Conduit—and a cold terrifying thought crept into her mind. Was it _their_ Mako?

The hapless IFVs flight came to an end when it smacked against the stone floor, only to kick up in the air and tumble further. The clanging of the Mako's metal armor against the ground slowed, and then finally halted. When Amina peeked her head up to look at the battered vehicle, she was taken aback by the swath of damage it left behind. PIeces of armor plating, turrets, and tires were left strewn about. The right side of the Mako's front axle had been completely severed and the remains, tire still attached, lay a couple dozen meters away near a burning piece of armor.

Without thought Amina was immediately in disaster response mode, her body finding speed she hadn't seen basic training to reach the crippled IFV. The 25-year-old marine climbed atop the Mako and began trying to free its emergency hatch. Its latch had been crushed during the crash and she couldn't pry the hatch open without tools. Amina pounded her fist against the hatch, **"Can anyone hear me in there? This is Alliance Sergeant Faunce, Chadwell are you in there?"**

* * *

A trickle of warmth ran down the side of Shepard's face, and the marine reflexively reached to dab it away. Her fingers came back from the edge of her exposed helmet red with blood, drawing a muttered string of profanity from her. She didn't feel any pounding pain in her head, but thought she might recognize the stinging sensation of a minor cut alongside her cheek or brow—it could be dealt with later. There was no time right now for an injury, no time to worry about cuts or bruises that she'd likely taken during the crash, right now she had to rescue her people. Her bones ached as she pulled herself from the driver's seat, and her back threatened to cramp up from the twisting and pounding it'd taken. She'd lived a hard thirty-two-years, and her body had only recently been repaired from the blast.

Shepard had to partially crawl on hands and knees to pass from where she'd driven the Mako to the troop compartment, and all the way she was assailed by the thick acrid smoke pouring from countless fires inside and outside the IFV. Her ears still rung from the trip through the Conduit, and the ensuing crash, but she could still hear the chaotic symphony alarms going off around her. Each alarm detailed its own category of serious damage to the vehicle, and she hardly doubted more alarms were supposed to be going off from systems that'd been outright destroyed. **"Yeah girl, I know shit's fucked up—I don't think you'll be driving away from this."**

" **Damn Commander, you're talking to the IFV now. We might have to get a doc over here to check your head out after all."** She hadn't intended for the marines to hear her, but Snider had caught the comment and thrown it back at her with a mischievous grin.

" **Keep it up Sergeant and I'll give you a real head wound to worry about."** Howls of delight came from Snider's peers, none of quite adjusted with the Commander's camaraderie and banter. To his credit, Snider's grin was undeterred by the sharp retort.

All the marines, Shepard included, had to stand with a slight stoop to avoid hitting their heads against the roof of the damaged vehicle, and her back was beginning to ache from the strain. _Not right now. I can collapse later, right now—Ash._ Her eyes were searching for the Mako's emergency hatch, though she wished she'd equipped her helmet's breather so the thick smoke around her wouldn't sting her eyes and burn her throat. Finally she located what she'd been looking for, at least she thought—the IFV's roof was crumpled and deformed beyond recognition in many places. A dull shouting could be heard from beyond the hatch, but it was largely drowned out by the alarms and sirens around her.

Shepard placed a hand on the hatch, and mentally began to recite a mnemonic that she'd developed years ago to channel her biotics. The hatch bulged and groaned, its latch and hinges holding on desperately to the crippled IFV. Finally it gave, its crumpled metal remains sailing away from her alongside the sharp sound of shearing metal. Her heart was beating out an upbeat march in her chest, but at least she was getting gasps of fresh air from the new opening.

The shouting from before was clearer now, and she could see it came from a familiar faced woman in Alliance armor. Before her onlooker was able to clearly identify Shepard she began to call into the Mako, **"This is Sergeant Faunce, Chadwell you in there?"**

Shepard could feel her heart swelling at the sight of one of _her_ marines again, it was the first of them she'd seen since the blast. **"Got the wrong Mako, Faunce."** She was already pulling herself out of the Mako and onto its crumpled hole. Faunce's face went from worried to alarmed, and Shepard couldn't help but feel a little amusement at the reaction—this wasn't the first time she'd come back from the dead. **"What's the situation?"**

" **Commander Shepard? Ma'am!"** Even through her surprise, Faunce's marine training kicked in, her hand shooting upward to form a crisp salute. Shepard waved her away with a warm smile and took a second to just breathe and let her heart slow down some.

She held onto her amusement at Faunce's alarm, not letting herself feel the crashing wave of emotions that'd hit her the first time she'd been thought to be dead. **"In the flesh."**

The surprise on Faunce's face had faded some, but she could tell that the Sergeant still wasn't entirely over it—Shepard imagined her arrival through the Conduit hadn't done much to help with the surprise. In her periphery Shepard could see more marines gathering around her, though she recognized few. None of them were given time to react to her return, nor was Shepard allowed a chance to try and introduce herself. Faunce stood firm next to Shepard, her voice commanding respect in ways only a marine could. **"Look alive marines! Commander Shepard is with us now."** Faunce nodded towards Shepard, signaling that she was handing over the marines to her.

The four gathered marines, plus Faunce who had moved to stand beside them, were all at attention and saluting the Commander. **"At ease marines. I'm sure that a lot of you have questions, and I promise I'll answer all of those as soon as I safely can, but right now we have a lot of work to do—and I need your full attention on the mission at hand. Sergeant Faunce, allow me to introduce Lieutenant Donnel and Staff Sergeant Romez both of the 10th Frontier Division, they've brought with them fireteam grizzly."** She turned to motion to the marines, and allowed them to nod their greetings. **"What's our situation, sergeant?"**

" **When** _ **Normandy**_ **entered the system we were blocked by a picket of mixed ships, believed to be a group of surviving batarians. We knocked the bulk of them out, landed the 103rd, and we've been on ground for roughly seventy-two hours, ma'am. About twelve hours ago** _ **Normandy**_ **caught sight of inbound hostiles of the same make as before, but they were overwhelmed by the number and size of the ships—we didn't expect them to have reinforcements that close by. We lost contact with** _ **Normandy**_ **shortly afterwards, but we expect that is because they activated the IES and went dark to avoid detection. Our Mako is further up the cavern, towards the entrance—we had to abandon it due to a blockage in the path. The X' had left a fire team behind under Sar'nt Haight to keep watch. Damn blinks managed to land ground reinforcements so the X' took the LT and Worbaar to reinforce them. STG'd already sent their top two operatives that way, so it's gotta be a hell of a fight up there."**

Faunce didn't call her by name, but she didn't need to—Shepard had made Ashley Williams XO in the event of her death, and 'X' referred to her. Ashley was headed towards, if not already engaged with, the enemy reinforcements. **"Understood, thank you Sargeant."**

" **Aye Ma'am!"**

Her mind began trying to unravel the situation, and formulate a plan of attack given the assets she had ot work with. She had five marines from the _Normandy,_ and five from _the Dunkirk,_ a Mako further up the tunnel, and over a dozen salarian scientists she'd need to protect. **"Alright Faunce, I want your two best marines, and grizzly team, here with the salarians, make sure they pack their shit up. I don't care how many more calculations they have left, they pack their shit up and store it or have your marines do it for them. I'm taking the remainder of your marines, yourself included, and as well as these two."** She jerked a head towards Donnel and Romez. **"We're going to relieve our troops up the tunnel, and recover our fucking Mako. When that IFV makes it back here these salarians need to be prepped to mount up. Get whoever is the specialist on the Conduit's operation to get that thing warmed up, we're going to need to fire it up quickly when the time comes."**

" **Aye ma'am. Let's give 'em hell."**

" **I fully intend to, Sergeant. I'm going to remind them why I was called the** _ **Butcher of Torfan."**_

* * *

Ashley's body had been consumed by an aching pain, and her left shoulder felt like someone had lit a fire underneath the skin. She didn't have time yet to look herself over, but when she did she imagined she'd find the armor there mangled if not gone. The air coated with dust from the collapse, and her hearing was pierced by a sharp ringing, but she thought she could make out the faint pop of small arms fire.

She hunched forward and began to sprint, her profile as minimized as possible to avoid being shot during the momentary lapse in cover. She came to a halt behind a large piece of rubble that Vega was also using for cover, half a meter further down. His lips were twisted into a scowl, and though he wore gloves she could tell he was white-knuckling his rifle. **"I'm going to skin that son of a bitch when we get out of here. He'll be lucky if there's enough of him left to scrape together and make a pair of butter bars."**

Ashely nodded silently, her anger a white hot flame in her chest. She understood why Englewood had fired the cannon, he was young, inexperienced, and had panicked. His mistake had fucked them all over, though he seemed to have slowed the stream of enemies. She wasn't sure if that was because the cave-in had blocked them further, or because they were dazed from the hazardous explosion. **"Sabre-six here—check in! Over."**

" _Six, one here, over."_ The voice was Worbaar, between clenched teeth.

" _Six, three here,"_ Chadwell's voice was winded and hard, _"three-three is fine but three-two is unresponsive. I'm trying to get him to some cover to do what I can but I can't find a pulse, over."_

 _Fuck, Woodland was down._

" _Six, four here, over."_ This from Vega right next to her.

" _Six, five here, over."_ The final check in was Haight,

" **Six here, copy sabre—does anyone have eyes on the Mako? Over."** Ashley had lost sight of the beastly IFV in the blast, and this was going to get a lot shittier if they'd lost it.

" _Six, three here, bitch is sitting a couple meters from me unharmed. Over."_

" **Six here, copy three—get your man to safety and do what you can. Everyone else do what you can to hold them back until I can develop half a plan. Over."**

A series of clicks over the line signalled their affirmative, and she could hear the popping of rifles in the distance—followed by the gasping cries of dead batarians and vorcha. Ashley let herself breath for a moment, her hands working over her body in a methodical check for injuries. She patted and felt each plate within her reach to make sure she hadn't taken an injury she didn't know about. Her right hand came to her left shoulder and her fingers quickly sank into jagged rough ceramic, what was left of the shattered armor on the back of her shoulder.

She twisted around so that the injured area was facing Vega, **"James, what's my back looking like?"**

" **Lookin' worse for wear, Ash. Hold still I'll put some medi-gel on it as best I can."**

" **How come you never have any nicknames for me, Vega?"**

" **I figured if the Commander ever caught wind she'd kick my ass for flirtin' with her woman."**

Ash started to turn around in protest but Vega steadied her with a hand. It was pointless to argue with him, but she still felt a sharp stab of pain in her heart at the mention of Shepard. **"That doesn't explain why you still called her by nicknames. Didn't think I'd do the same?"**

" **There's a difference."** Though she couldn't see his face she knew he was smirking right now.

" **And that is?"**

" **I gave the Commander at least fifty-fifty odds of taking me in a fight."**

" **You saying you could take me hand to hand, LT?"**

" **With my eyes closed."** He finished applying the medi-gel patch and smacked it playfully, sending a wince of pain to Ashley's face. If they weren't in combat she'd have kicked his ass for it.

" **Worbaar I need a fucking LMG trained on that mound of rubble. When they start coming over I want a river of blood."**

" **Aye ma'am. On the move."** She saw the young filipino marine dart across the smokey clearing, Typhoon in hand and head ducked to avoid potential snipers. A moment later a burst of static came across the comms followed by Havens' voice.

" **Cowboy here. Sorry for the comms silence, Commander. I had to kick Englewood's ass and get our backup comms back online at the same time. Fucking debris took out one of our antennas, and did a number on the KBs but they're holding for now. Over"**

" **Copy that Cowboy, get Englewood on those MGs ASAP, we need cover when they recover from his stunt, but let him know if he pulls some shit like that I'll drag him out of the Mako and let the batarians have at him. Over"**

" **Copy ma'am, we're pinned at the moment. Got some debris down on a few of the wheels—I don't think anything's damaged but we can't move presently. Working on getting clear, but until then we don't have much of a shot. Over."**

" **We've got movement coming over the mound!"** The voice was the frantic cry of Frain, the Lance Corporal could be seen a few meters away, rushing to get better cover from the new hostiles.

" **Damnit, fucking damnit!"** Chadwell's voice cut in, the woman had been doing frantic compressions nearby on Woodland but Ashley could see she'd sat back in defeat. " **Lance Corporal Woodland is KIA."**

" **Fucking A."** This from Vega who had moved to cover Chadwell after he'd finished patching up Ashley. **"Englewood you're fucking dead, you hear me? I'm going to choke the shit out of you when we're out of this."**

" **Vega."** She was irate with the gunner for the reckless shot, but as the marines' superior she had to intervene and maintain professionalism on the battlefield. Englewood seemed to understand at least how badly he'd pissed them off, because the marine had been oddly silent this whole time. Ashley wasn't sure the status of Kirrahe and Vaewan, the two had been fighting alongside the Mako to hold off the batarians but weren't a part of the Alliance Marines' battlenet. **"Anyone got sight on our STG pals? Over."**

" **Affirmative, at least one of them is still standing. Other one looks down but I can't be sure from here."**

Ashley strained to locate where Frain was referring to, but her eyes weren't able to spot either of them— _I'll just have to hope._

A handful of new corpses were already littering the mounded rubble, and the rest of the hostiles had scattered to cover—though their position could be inferred from where the other marines were focusing their fire. Suddenly to the left of where the others were focused, she sawa trio of mechs firing to relieve pressure on their comrades.

Ashley's sniper rifle snapped off three bright shots, the first two hitting home center mass on each of their targets, the mechs dropped satisfying to the ground. The third shot caught its target in the right shoulder and shattered it, spinning the mech but leaving it still standing. The droid scrambled for its weapon but a second round caught its head, dropping the mech alongside the others.

" **Pyros up top!"** She frantically called out to Frain and Haight, the two closest to the pyros' range. She tried to fire a shot at the flametroopers, but flinched as the rubble she was taking cover behind exploded a few centimeters from her head—a missed sniper shot at her. She shimmied down the cover a bit, but something must've given her position away because another explosion of stone erupted to her right.

She was about to call the support troops to Vega or Chadwell, thinking perhaps one of them could hit or pin down the sharpshooter, but she wasn't given a chance. A voice that chilled her to her bones called for a cease fire through the comms, and then the cavern was filled with an ear splitting crack. The whole battlefield was illuminated by a bright blue light, a streak of which cut directly across the room towards the pyros. _What the shit?_

* * *

 **Refuge System, Near Ilos**

 **September 14th, 2186**

" _What do you mean you don't understand the problem? You initiated a cold jump in atmosphere! Do you know how much strain that puts on the Tantalus Drive?!"_

" **Look Adams,"** began Joker, **"what I know is that you and I were both in the SR-1 when she got swamped by the Collectors,** _ **and I wasn't looking to go through that again!"**_

" _Did you even calculate where we were headed when you jumped? Or did you just activate the drive and_ _ **hope**_ _?"_

" **We survived, didn't we?"**

" _That's not the point Joker! It's my job to maintain the fusion plant and drive core, we have our safety procedures for a reason! You don't have EDI to watch your ass anymore."_

" **Joker, Commander Vakarian is coming!"** the nervous voice came from Ensign Dobbe, his co-pilot on duty at the time.

" **Hear that Adams? Gotta go. Nice chat! Come by the cockpit sometime!"** He clicked off the line before Adams could respond and leaned back in his chair, lazily throwing a glance at Dobbe. **"Nice one Dobs, I like that quick thinking."** Joker buried the sharp knife that Adams had plowed into his heart by mentioning EDI, at least until he was alone again.

" **Erm sir, Commander Vakarian is actually here!"**

Joker let out a groan and spun his chair around, shooting a glare at Dobbe for her use of formalities. **"Garrus! What brings my favorite, and only, turian onboard the** _ **Normandy**_ **to our** _ **humble**_ **cockpit?"** Joker's voice was glazed with sarcasm, drawing an amused snicker from Dobbe before the young Ensign managed to smother it with her palm.

Garrus's mandibles flared in amusement as he drew closer, eyes scanning the deep black horizon for any sign of where they were. **"That was quick thinking Joker, though I heard Adams is less than pleased with the stunt."**

" **Ahh yeah Adams is a little wound up, but we survived."**

" **That we did. What's our current status?"**

" **I saw there's a couple dozen damage reports floating around, everything from hull breaches to a fractured stabilizer."**

" **Is our IES up?"**

" **It was when we jumped, and when we emerged, but engineering brought it down once we saw no one out there so we could vent heat... I don't like leaving our people back there, Sir."**

" **I don't either, Joker. I'm going to see what our damage is looking like, and how long repairs are going to take. I'm planning to take us back as soon as I can with the IES up so we can drop in silently. I'll give you a heads up so you can start plotting approach vectors."**

" **Copy that boss."** The turian was already turning back towards the CIC when Joker stopped him, **"Aye Garrus! Grab some of the paint thinner from the marines' still down below while you're out. Dobs here could use something to relax 'er. She still gets jumpy when you come up here, and she keeps calling you 'Commander Vakarian'."**

Joker wasn't sure how to describe the sound that Garrus made in response, but he was pretty sure it was the turian equivalent of a chuckle.

* * *

" **Erm—try toggling on the circuit now Tali?"**

From a nearby pit in the floor came the young voice of Specialist Donnelly. The Cerberus defector had pried open one of the Engineering Deck floor compartments in order to diagnose the cause of their current systems malfunction. The whole deck looked like a disaster zone, with small burn marks along the walls and floor from electrical fires, and there were cracks weaving through the cosmetic glass windows around the deck.

The _Normandy's_ most recent firefight had left a number of systems damaged, the most devastating of which had been the kinetic barriers. _Normandy_ still had functional KBs, but damage to the hull had melted surface-level fuses and caused several internal circuits to blow. Donnelly and Tali had tried bypassing the fuse, but they still couldn't get the circuit back online—which had led Donnelly to his current hypothesis about a blown circuit somewhere.

Tali toggled a holographic switch on the terminal in front of her, and watched as a visual representation of the system's power flow materialized. **"I have activated the e-seven shield circuit, do you see anything Donnelly?"**

" **Nothing yet... looking... looking..."**

She couldn't see inside the pit from here, but Tali still stared distantly in hope that she might spy some clue as to their problem. Silence lingered over the deck for another few moments and Tali feared that Donnelly might have been wrong—that was when a loud pop sounded behind her. The quarian shrieked and jumped away, turning to face whatever had just happened.

A cable bundle running along the ceiling was spewing sparks, one of the wires slowly beginning to glow red hot. Donnelly shot up from the pit as fast as he could, scrambling towards the source of the crackling wires. **"I picked the wrong circuit!"**

The incident had nearly scared Tali out of her suit, but she could feel her heart beginning to come back down to her chest as Donnelly feverishly worked to climb now into the ceiling. Close behind him was Daniels, forever his partner for better or worse. Tali was about to join the two and ask if they needed assistance, but was interrupted by the sound of the door behind her opening. Spinning around once more she saw Adams, his body language portraying some of the anger she'd overheard in his voice earlier.

" **Are we still stuck on KB e-seven?"**

" **Yes sir..."** She began, glancing back down at the computer to confirm what she knew, that Donnelly had not repaired E-7. **"It seems Specialist Donnelly has another hypothesis about it though, he and Specialist Daniels are working on it right now."**

" **How about the tantalus and our reactor? Are they still stable—no damage from the strain put on them during our** _ **'maneuvers'**_ **?"** The way he bit off the last word reminded Tali of how irate the normally calm man had been about Joker's tactic.

" **They seem to be operating within normal parameters, the reactor's output is up a bit, though we are certain that is due to electrical shorts causing increased power draw."**

" **Right, I've seen it do that before. Start prepping the core and the reactor for another FTL jump, but keep at the KB problem. We took a beating, but we're still in relatively good shape. Our tiger-stripes took a some damage from the hull hits, but maintenance has them working relatively efficiently—they're venting our heat out right now. After that, Garrus says we're going to jump back in with the IES on and stay low orbit to avoid detection. We'll be able to finish repairs, including the KB problem, but we can keep an eye on our marines down below."**

" **I see... I will get to work right away!"** Tali busily turned back to the terminal and pretended she was doing something that might aide Donnelly. She was nervous about having left their friends behind on Ilos, and she was nervous about the toll that the mission had taken on Garrus. She'd hardly had a moment alone with him since they'd reached Ilos, and the normally laid back turian was irritable and aloof.

* * *

 **STG Facility, Ilos**

 **September 14th, 2186**

Shepard's marines were at the tunnel blockage now, and already she could hear the sharp popping of mass accelerated weapons beyond it. Without hesitation she laid herself flat against the stone wall to slide past, even as one of the marines behind her protested her taking lead. _I will be damned if I get this close only to have something happen._

The N7 slowly shimmied through the opening, wincing each time a sharp stone jabbed or pinched her still-sore body. Her passage was scored by the shrill scrape of ceramic plates against stone wall, only slightly covered by the increasingly loud sound of small arms fire. With only half of her body left in the opening she could see the fight that was waging on across a makeshift battlefield, and it wasn't pretty. There were multiple cave-ins, scattered dead batarians, vorcha, and varren, and she thought she saw the gut wrenching sight of a dead Alliance Marine. Further into the cavern she could see the team's Mako, partially buried by one of the cave-ins, as well as multiple spots where Alliance Marines had taken cover and were desperately firing at the sporadic enemy.

Icy terror spread through Shepard's heart in an instant, catalyzed by the sound of a voice she could have never mistaken. " **Pyros up top!"** She'd heard the voice before, on Eden Prime delivering a level-headed sitrep after watching the Geth execute the rest of the 212th. On the Citadel defiantly snapping back at the Council when they withheld support Shepard desperately needed. She'd heard the voice aboard the _Normandy_ in their moments of downtime, in moments of rare intimacy, and in the life or death throes of battle. There wasn't a time or place that Jessica Shepard wouldn't' recognize Ashley Williams' voice, and right now she was crying out to warn a her fellow marines even as a sharpshooter pinned her down.

Shepard could see the troopers that she was referring to as her right leg cleared the cramped opening, and she could see that those flametroopers were growing uncomfortably close to two of the marines. There was no thought of the frail repairs to her body, nor the warnings she'd received about straining herself. She took a quick second to call out on the comms, hoping they were still using her frequencies, **"Sabre this is Eagle, hold your fire."** Shepard closed her eyes, her mind going through the old exercises she'd instilled in herself to harness her biotics. When she opened her eyes she was covered in a thin bluish corona of energy, her body seemed to elongate, and then she was gone. The cavern was filled with a thundering boom, and a streak of bright energy traced from where she'd been standing before to where the flame troopers were harassing her marines.

Her arrival was marked with an explosive wave of biotic energy that toppled the four batarians unceremoniously. Shepard had drawn her shotgun as soon as she'd rematerialized, and without hesitation she fired it now into the nearest of the batarians, two incendiary blasts of the Crusader ripping apart the support trooper. A second had staggered to his feet and was moving towards her, though he was caught in the grip on an invisible hand as Shepard swept her arm through the air. The batarian was lifted into the air, his arms and legs flailing, and then he was thrown savagely against the ground at breakneck final pyro was on his knees, staggering upward but not quite fast enough. Two blasts of her shotgun caught the side of his head and dropped him back down.

That left her with one remaining opponent, and a full heatsink in her shotgun. Shepard dropped to a forward roll just as her opponent fired, his shots flaring harmlessly over her. She came up from the roll with forward momentum and an extended onmi-blade, which she buried into his chest. With a pained groan the alien in front of her dropped to his knees, and as he did Shepard pulled her blade free and slashed out at his throat to finish the job.

The entire fight had been like a dance for Shepard, none of it truly thought out. She'd fallen back on the reflexes and instinct developed from years in the military. Now that the fight was over, she was left unsure how to proceed. She could feel loose locks of hair slicked with sweat and plastered against her face beneath her helmet, and her heart was racing from the sudden exertion.

The fight was over, but Shepard had been standing over the last batarian for a silent few seconds longer. When she turned around she saw that Ashley was closest to her. Though she wore a helmet Shepard was able to see enough of her face to read the expression on it. There were a hundred emotions flashing across her face, and in them Shepard thought she saw pain, grief, and anger. Ashley idly raised one of her hands to cover her mouth in shock, eyes locked with Shepard's.

" **Skipper..."** There was no hint in Ashley's voice that implied she feared a mistaken identity. **"You were dead... you had died** _ **again,**_ **but you're here..."** It sounded for a minute like Ashley was blaming Shepard for all this, but she wasn't surprised. Ashley had been almost _angry_ when Shepard had come back the first time, and it'd taken a year for her to stop questioning her loyalties. **"You died... the Presidium exploded, we all saw it... We... we..."** The marine started to crack, and the anger that Shepard had heard was shifting. **"We saw the explosion... we couldn't hail you... we left you."** The pivot was complete, Shepard could see that Ashley's anger wasn't directed at Shepard, but rather herself.

Shepard crossed the distance between the two and tentatively placed a hand on Ashley's shoulder, **"Hey I'm here, I'm alive. It's okay."**

 **"We left you... You were alive and** _ **I**_ **left you... I let you go up there alone..."** Ashley's eyes were pinched closed and Shepard could see the glistening tears leaking out of them.

" **Ash."** Shepard's voice was hard, unwavering, but coated in love, **"You know that if you had been able to raise me I would've ordered Joker to leave."** Ashley was silent now, and Shepard could see that behind her Vega was staring in disbelief. His bewilderment gave way to an amused grin.

" **You're one tough pendejo, Lola."** The return of Vega's nicknames, and his casual way of talking to superiors, both drew a thin smirk from Shepard.

Her attention shifted back to Ashley, and the younger woman seemed to sense it through closed eyes. Defensively Ashley pushed Shepard's hand away from her shoulder with a shake of her head, **"I'm alright skipper. We.. we can talk about everything when we get out of here."** Her eyes were open now, and though she had stopped the tears they were bright red with irritation.

" **Commander Shepard?"** A thin energetic voice cut through the teary reunion from further to Shepard's right. Approaching her from behind some of the rubble was a spindly salarian, his head concealed by one of their oddly shaped helmets and his hands coated in thick green blood.

Shepard still recognized the voice and grinned at the sight, **"Major Kirrahe. I wish we could meet under better circumstances sometime, but it's a pleasure nonetheless. Are you alright...?"**

" **The feeling is mutual, Commander, though it would seem our attackers have stalled for the moment. Perhaps they are trying to preserve units—our intelligence did suggest the batarians were few in number after the Reapers raided their systems... Oh and erm yes, I am quite fine.. Though my superior, Colonel Vaewan died in the fighting."**

Shepard nodded slowly in agreement, her eyes flicking back to the mound of rubble separating them from the hostile forces, **"I'm sorry to hear that. But yes, it seems they think they have us backed into a corner, but I have a way out for us. I'm still working a few things out in my head though—has anyone made contact with** _ **Normandy**_ **since they went dark?"**

Ashley shook her head somberly, **"It's been all quiet."**

" **Very well, I have a plan for that too. Major, I'm assuming STG has a way to transmit signals using the different encryptions of council races?"**

The salarian stood perfectly still for a moment, as though he were silently musing whether that was something he was supposed to keep to himself. Finally his contemplation resolved and he looked up at her, **"Theoretically, yes."**

" **Good, that includes turian encryptions?"**

" **Again, theoretically yes we could."**

" **Would I be wrong in assuming whatever surviving batarians are out there would** _ **not**_ **recognize such a transmission as turian encryption? Especially were the transmission to lack any metadata."**

" **You are correct... They would likely mistake it as static for a time. How long is hard to say, even still they wouldn't possess the ability to break it—batarians are not known for their intellect, and turians are known for their focus on military."**

" **Perfect."** She turned so that she could address Ashley and Kirrahe at the same time, **"Kirrahe, get a broad spectrum transmission ready on the lowest level of turian encryption. Ashley, when I give the signal use Kirrahe's equipment to send out a message."**

" **Err ma'am, why use turian codes? There's no way the Hierarchy would receive it in any kind of reasonable time."** This from Worbaar.

" **I'm not trying to raise the Hierarchy, I'm trying to raise the** _ **Normandy.**_ **"**

" **...and she doesn't want the batarians to know she's sending out a message—they've been fighting us long enough to recognize our encryption as at least that."** This from Ashley.

Worbaar didn't seem to understand the plan any better after Ashley's explanation, **"We're raising an Alliance Warship with turian codes... do we even have a key for those? I— don't answer that, comms aren't my specialty anyways."** Kirrahe was already away to his gear, working on setting up a transmitter with the appropriate encryption parameters, Ashley standing over his shoulder the entire time.

Shepard left them to it and went to inspect the Mako. Havens and Englewood had managed to clear enough of the rubble away now, and the Mako was slowly crawling out of its hole. Now that the IFV was in the open Shepard was able to see what kind of damage it'd taken from the impact. The armor where the stones had fallen was dented in and crushed, but it would still do the job.

" **Worbaar, start setting charges on that blockage to clear it. We need to get the Mako through there."**

" **Erm... ma'am the reason the X' didn't have us do that originally was fear the tunnel might collapse from the blast."** Shepard just shot Worbaar one of her trademark silent stares until the marine grew uncomfortable. **"I'll get right on it ma'am."**

" **The rest of you load up into the Mako. We fall back as soon as the path is clear to do so. Williams, how is that comm looking?"**

" **Ready when you are ma'am."**

" **I'm going to draw their attention on me for just a minute, do your best to make contact while they're distracted. The hope is that they see your transmission as background static, but don't press your luck."** Shepard withdrew her own transmitter from her belt, set it to transmit unencrypted on all available channels, and began.

" **To any and all batarian forces currently engaged in hostilities, this is Commander Shepard of the Systems Alliance Marine Corps. I imagine you're some remnant of Ka'hairal Balak's surviving forces, and as you may know he attempted to kill me—he then bled out on the decks of the Citadel. You have killed innocents today, scientists who were trying to repair the damage done to the relays, and you endangered the lives of my crew. There is only one mercy I will offer you: evacuate the system before I reach you. If you choose to not heed my warning, and remain on this planet, you will die."**

She let the transmission hang on dead-air for nearly a minute, until a guttural reply came from the comm in her hand, **"This is Captain Ghr'thak of the Batarian Hegemony, and I know your name** _ **Butcher of Torfan**_ **. The Terminus Systems belong to us, and your time of slaying our people has ended. I will take honor in being the warlord to oversee your death."**

For another thirty seconds the line was dead, but when Shepard's voice came back it was hard as steel, **"I took the best you had on Elysium, followed you back home and put what was left of your army down like a sick dog. In my experience though, you batarians are all bluster until you're on your knees begging for surrender. Do you know how many prisoners I took that day, on Torfan?"** The line was silent for another half minute, and it didn't seem Ghr'thak intended to answer her question, **"Zero."**


	10. Flight

**Ilos Orbit**

 **September 14th, 2186**

" **Sir, you'll want to look at this."** The soft voice cut through the otherwise silent CIC, overtop the whirring of the dozens of terminals and clicking of keys. A flicker of holograms appeared over the CIC's main hub, showing a visual representation of incoming frequencies on the comm. Serviceman Kathy Hacker was the ship's Junior Comm Officer, the one responsible for filling in when Tryanor was off duty, and presently she was tripping over herself to find the words needed to describe what was happening to Garrus Vakarian. **"We just got a lot—err two—different signals coming in… from the ground that is, not the batarians. The main signal is an open line, all frequencies—I… I'm putting it on now sir."**

 **The** _Normandy_ was orbiting Ilos presently with its IES online, monitoring passively what was going on below and what was going on with the batarian fleet without actively probing in a way that would give them away. They could maintain this pattern for days if needed, but Liara silently hoped that Garrus would find a way to get their marines and get out before then. The asari scientist stood perfectly still, captivated by equal parts curiosity and concern at the alarm coming from the Junior Officer. She'd only been in the CIC to give a report to Garrus about her findings from initial data the ground team had beamed up, but she'd frozen in place when the flurry of activity had exploded inside the otherwise sleepy CIC.

' _To any and all batarian forces currently engaged in hostilities, this is Commander Shepard of the Systems Alliance Marine Corps.'_

An icy hand gripped Liara's insides immediately upon hearing the voice, and its grip only tightened at the confirmation of her name. _Shepard,_ memories poured through Liara's mind—the experiences they'd shared when she had paired with Shepard's mind, the experiences and pain she'd seen inside the marine's mind, and the sight of the Citadel exploding with Shepard aboard it. The other crew members in the CIC seemed seized by the same tendril of ice as Liara, for even the soft rustling of Officers going about their duty had yielded to true silence.

Garrus was a statue in front of her, still standing atop the captain's podium with hands wrapped around the railing by his waist. The message played on around them all, but no one seemed to listen to the words, instead they were all stuck on the first line, _this is Commander Shepard of the Systems Alliance Marine Corps._

Without thinking about her movements, Liara stepped closer to the communications terminal and Garrus. Her eyes were glued on the soft hologram that flickered in front of them to represent the rise and fall of Shepard's voice. **"That is her… Garrus how can that be her, Shepard is alive?"**

Her question had pulled Garrus back to reality, though as he returned his mood visibly shifted. He didn't seem surprised, excited, or happy, he seemed _angry._ Liara struggled to understand what about the message had angered him, had it been the rest of Shepard's transmission? Surely Garrus wasn't angry at the thought of turning over command of the _Normandy_ to their friend. **"Who the hell is that on the line? How are they doing that?"** It was then that Liara understood his mood, he didn't believe it was her. Garrus was angry at the thought that someone would spoof Shepard's voice and torture them with her death all over again. **"Hacker, get Traynor up here now, I want to know who is making that broadcast."**

" **Aye sir."**

Shepard's voice stopped talking, and Liara desperately wished she would resume—as long as Shepard kept talking she knew that the human was alive and well. In return to what might have been a question came the gruff and throaty voice of a batarian, though she cared little what he had to say. **"Commander."** The newest to join the controversy of the transmission was E-Warfare Lieutenant Arnette. **"I've run every transmission analysis we have in E-Warfare, and it keeps coming back with the same result: all our systems say that is Shepard speaking. There's no signs of tampering, and all the ambient sounds around her register as genuine."**

 **Silence took over yet again, and Liara felt a new wave of shock overwhelm her. She'd** _known_ it was Shepard as soon as she heard the voice, but without seeing the woman's face, or touching her hand to Shepard's arm, Liara could cast doubt in her mind that it was real; without confirmation that she was actually alive, Liara could guard herself from losing Shepard _again._ To punctuate Arnette's revelation Shepard's voice returned to the transmission, and something visibly cleared behind Liara's deep eyes. _We have to get down there to her… We cannot let her die this time…_

" **I… see."** Garrus was in overload at the news, she could tell by the slight slack of his jaw. "What about the static coming through—that frequency?" One of his claw-like fingers gestured at the other holographic representation.

Hacker returned to the conversation now, taking this as her queue to share information. **"That's the thing sir, it isn't originating from the same source. There's a different transmitter broadcasting all that static up here."**

" **Let me see the frequency, maybe it's some kind of non-verbal transmission. I've seen some of the marine non-verbal jargon before."** The hologram resolved into flickering signal waves with a soft static roar playing behind them. The static seemed chaotic, but something about it seemed to captivate Garrus. His eyes were locked on each flicker of the frequency, and she could see his visor coming alive with readouts for him. **"Specialist, move aside please."**

Even as he gave the order he was already on the move, and had Hacker not shuffled away as fast as she had the tall turian would've shouldered her out of the way. Liara stepped back reflexively to avoid finding herself in his way, eyes even wider now at Garrus' sudden burst of life. **"What is in the transmission Garrus?"**

He didn't even seem to hear her voice, instead his fingers pecked at terminal. When he finished he just stepped a half-step back, and his face radiated silence confidence at his work. The sound of the static that'd been softly playing died off, and coming from the same speakers came a familiar voice. ' _This is Lieutenant Commander Ashley Williams, Normandy do you read me? I repeat this is Lieutenant Commander Ashley Williams, on the ground on Ilos—Normandy do you read?'_ Liara couldn't hold back the gasp that escaped her lips, and she was about to ask Garrus what he'd done but the turian was on the comm replying already.

" **Ashley this is Garrus… what the hell is going on down there? I'm listening to Shepard's voice on the comm, and If I hadn't recognized** _ **turian**_ **encryption on your line your transmission would've been lost to space."**

' _She's alive Garrus… I don't know how, and I don't know how she got here, but she's alive. She'll have to explain better when we have more time. We're pinned down here, the batarians seem to have limited ground forces but still we can't hold them for long.'_

Garrus froze in place, his face unmoving but the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest—what could be seen of it underneath the soft parts of his carapace—stopped. Her friend hesitated for a whole minute in perfect stillness, and then he broke from his paralysis. **"I understand. Does she have a plan?"**

' _About that… I'm switching us to a tight beam transmission to avoid sensor detection, are you in-atmosphere?'_

The line clicked twice as the transmission switched, **"Upper atmo, in geosynchronous orbit."**

' _Copy. Erm, the Commander wants to talk to you now.'_ There was a loud rustling from Ashley's end of the line as the comm was passed, and then silence.

' _Hey Garrus, I—'_

" **You're alive…"** His voice cut through hers as if he hadn't even heard anything after she said his name. The subtones of his voice carried a breadth of emotion that Liara had seldom heard from him. The restraint he'd shown moments earlier was gone—broken by the sound of his dear friend saying his name, and he allowed himself to believe she was alive.

' _Yeah, it was a surprise to me too.'_ Shepard's voice had the dry playful sarcasm that Liara had grown so accustomed to, despite her initial difficulties discerning it from seriousness. A flicker of movement came from Garrus' face, and Liara swore internally that she saw the turian smile. _'I've got a Mako down here, but still we can only move the scientists and about half of the marines I've got down here. I brought five with me, and you've got over three fire teams down here. But like I said, I have an idea—and Joker will probably like it.'_

* * *

" **Damn Lola, I see you didn't lose your stones while you were playin' dead."**

Something about the way James Vega talked to Shepard never ceased to grate Ashley. He was so comfortable talking to her, so loose with the things he said—no indication that they'd spent the last few weeks thinking she was dead. Even when Vega had only just met Shepard he was this way, assigning her that stupid nickname and making demands of her. Ashley Williams was a confident woman, but Vega had found a comfortability with Shepard that she never could settle into.

She had felt inferior the first time they met, Shepard was an Alliance legend and Ashley was the granddaughter of General Williams. In her mind it had been only a matter of time until Shepard learned of her history and blackballed her like the rest of the Officers she'd served under—but she hadn't. With time the feelings of inferiority dissolved, replaced by romantic anxieties. When Shepard came back from the dead wearing Cerberus colors it had shattered Ashley's world, and she had still been trying to sort through all the associated feelings with that when she had lost Shepard a second time.

" **Oh she's still got her stones, but I'm pretty sure she lost her fucking marbles."** They were all squeezed inside the Mako's tight troop bay, with Shepard beside Ashley and Worbaar sitting across from them with an incredulous look on her face. Earlier they had managed to painstakingly clear a path through the debris that had blocked the Mako's path, and the IFV now lumbered through the bunker towards the Conduit. **"I know Joker is a good pilot, but are we going to bank on:** _ **Oh hey! Just fly a fucking Alliance warship through a miniature homemade relay—no matter that it exits directly onto the fucking Presidium.**_ **Sounds like a great plan to me, let's just hope we don't hit anything on the way out."**

" **You got a better plan, squid?"**

Ashley felt her lips twist into a wide grin at Shepard's quip, an expression more genuine than anything that had crossed her face since they'd left Earth weeks earlier. Shepard didn't often use the nickname for Cyzilie, a reference to an error in some Alliance database that listed her as a sailor rather than a marine, but when she did it was always when Worbaar was primed to be bothered by it. Ashley had seen some of the official mail that Worbaar would occasionally receive, complete with the Naval seal that steamed her to her core. The typically mouthy Corporal just flashed her middle finger at Shepard and slumped back into her seat.

" **I do gotta ask, Commander, how are we getting to the Normandy? She's out there somewhere, and we're kinda trapped at the end of this bunker."** Lance Corporal Frain had a concerned look on his face, his eyes darting between Ashley and Shepard for some indication either woman had a plan. Worbaar annoyed facial expression resolved into one of amusement at the younger man's question, her head jerking towards Frain to indicate she agreed with him.

Shepard hooked a thumb underneath her visor and tugged upward, removing the helmet and revealing her red hair slicked to her head and neck with sweat and left unkempt by the helmet's disturbance. Her face looked tired and sitting so close Ashley could see the faint white lines that ran Shepard's cheeks—the remnant of the scars her implants had left.

She smiled coolly at the two marines' concern, but the smile didn't reach her eyes—they remained as tired looking as before, accentuated by the dark half circles that'd developed underneath them. **"I spoke with Garrus earlier, he brought the** _ **Normandy**_ **down to the surface and they're standing by a short distance away. When we get to the Conduit we'll cut a small hole in the dome that's covering it, slip out, and rendezvous with the Normandy."** She slapped the bulkhead of their IFV for emphasis. **"Once we're aboard, we'll drop the dome—it's gotta drop, it wasn't there when I was here before—and Joker will fly us through."**

Worbaar just started laughing, a more despair sound than anything amused, while her head leaned back against the seat. **"You're going to cut a hole in the wall, just quietly sneak to a fucking frigate, and fly it through the Conduit? You know the IES doesn't make us invisible right?"**

" **Funny, Garrus said the same thing. I've got a few tricks for when the time comes."**

" **We saw 'er blow up on the Citadel, Cyzilie."** Faunce was sitting just to the right of Worbaar, her eyes closed but her mouth drawn in an annoyed line. **"I wouldn't doubt that she's got a few tricks left."**

The remark silenced Worbaar, and the gathered marines settled into a tired silence. They were safe inside the Mako for now, and they were finally able to sit and rest—albeit for a short time—but there wasn't anything comfortable about the ride. They were each pointedly aware of the body bag lying amidst the troop compartment, the young Lance Corporal Woodland's body unmoving inside it. There had been little time to mount up the Mako when they'd departed, and so they had been forced to lie their fallen comrade on the floor at their feet. Woodland was one of the MARDET's new additions, and few of those gathered had known him well, but that didn't matter for Hallie Chadwell. She was in charge of the tactical element he'd been in—he had been one of her marines—and she had failed to protect him. Ashley could still remember the first time she lost marines under her command, and the forlorn look on Chadwell's face spoke to the old buried memories in the back of her mind. It wasn't just the marines that were worn down from the recent combat, the only non-human aboard—the wiry Major Kirrahe—was subdued. The STG Officer had lost most of his unit, including his CO, in the days-long fighting.

The jarring halt of the Mako's movement stirred Ashley from her exhausted musings, and she heard the voice of Havens call back from the cockpit. **"We've reached the Conduit, ma'am."** She addressed the remark to Shepard, but it was meant to let all the gathered marines know that they could file out and stretch their legs. The Mako dropped its rear troop hatch with a loud groan, and one by one the marines slowly filed out. Ashley caught sight of Hallie Chadwell stepping out of the IFV and noted that the Corporal was still lingering near the hatch. Her face was dark, and her mouth was drawn into an angry scowl, _shit._ Ashley hovered near the Mako once she exited, waiting for the confrontation she knew was only moments away.

It didn't take long to occur, as soon as the wiry PFC Engledow stepped out of the transport he was caught in the grip of a blue field and thrown across the cavern. The young boy sailed through the air with a confused yelp only to smack into the uneven ground with the sound of ceramic against stone. His hands and feet clawed at the slick wet stones underneath him to get away from whatever had hit him. Chadwell was on him even before he hit the ground, moving across the ground with a bright blue corona of biotic energy around her hands and fury in her eyes. **"Listen here you reckless motherfucker."**

A dozen words gathered in Ashley's mind, most of them sounding uncomfortably like old Gunny Ellison. She could feel her blood heating beneath her skin, and she was prepared to do her job—but she wasn't given the chance to. **"Stand down marine."** The voice was hard a steel, and it immediately halted the charging marine in her place. Shepard stood resolutely to Ashley's right, her hands clenched by her side and biotic corona wrapping fiercely around them.

" **I don't care what he did, you lash out at another marine like that that and I'll beat the absolute fuck out of you. That is NOT your job, Chadwell."** Chadwell remained unmoving for a tense few seconds, and Ashley began to think it might come to blows between the Corporal and Shepard, but the tension eased off. Chadwell broke away from Engledow with fury in her eyes, stomping across the cavern without saying a word. The PFC was on his feet now, his face frightened and his BDUs covered in wet dirt, though he was otherwise unharmed. Ashley let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding and turned to Shepard.

* * *

Shepard didn't know what set Chadwell off, what blunder Engledow had made to warrant her rage, but she presumed it had something to do with the dead marine loaded on the Mako. Chadwell was a good marine, one Shepard didn't know personally but had seen during the attack on Earth—she wouldn't lose her cool if it'd been a minor annoyance. With that said, she couldn't allow that behavior among her marines, or she'd lose any semblance of professionalism from them.

From the edge of her vision she could see that Ashley was silently staring at her, only a few feet away. Shepard slowly turned to face her and crossed the distance between the them briskly. She wrapped her arms around Ashley, and the two softly laughed at how clumsy the clinking of ceramic on ceramic made their embrace. Ashley leaned in and pressed her lips against Shepard's, cutting her laugh short and drawing a sharp inhale of surprise from her.

She'd gone weeks without this, without being able to hold Ashley in her arms, to feel her safely against her chest, and to feel the soft brush of Ashley's lips against her own. Shepard stayed still in the embrace, moving her hand to the back of Ashley's head, her gloved hands intertwining with the other woman's long black hair. Shepard knew that a few of the marines had probably stopped to watch, but it wasn't news to any of them—at least she hoped not. Their relationship had come out at some point while Shepard was dead, prior to her resurrection at the hands of Cerberus, and Shepard felt comfortable indulging in a moment of intimacy with her the woman in her arms.

Shepard pulled away from Ashely slowly, and in response Ashley's fingers tightened their grip on Shepard's own hair, begrudgingly relenting after she realized Shepard needed to say something. Shepard took a few seconds to breathe, her eyes coming to settle into Ashley's deep brown gaze. **"Ash..."** her eyes darted downwardly, **"I need you to get your gear and mount up the Mako with the scientists. You'll lead the Mako crew whi—"** She was cut off my sentence by a harsh shove against her chest, nearly sending her to her ass if she hadn't caught her feet as quickly as she did.

Ashley was staring at her with a stony gaze, her previously warm and affectionate smile gone—in its place was anger and pain. **"Oh hell no. I'm not leaving you again, I'm not going with the Mako crew. I let you send me away on Earth and I thought I lost you.** As she spoke it became clear that Ashley wasn't _mad,_ she was more scared and hurt than anything. Shepard's order to go with the Mako team had opened fresh wounds of guilt from London.

" **Ash please..."**

" **Don't you fucking Ash me Jessica."** A small group of marines had gathered nearby, intently watching the lovers' quarrel that was stewing; it wasn't every day a member of _Normand's_ MARDET got to see someone nearly knock Shepard on her ass without hell to pay. Ashley's use of Shepard's first name had drawn even more interest from the marines, and Shepard felt her cheeks threatening to flush with heat. **"I'm coming with you, and you can try to fucking stop me. You have rank but there isn't a Court Martial here, and I don't think you'd send me before one even if there were."** Ashley's left hand was on her hip in defiance, but her right hand cupped her face, occasionally slipping a finger up to wipe tears away that threatened to streak the girl's makeup.

Shepard opened her mouth to protest, but closed it before Ashley could interrupt her. She loosened her posture and slowly approached Ashley, cupping the woman's face with her left hand, thumb resting underneath Ashley's jaw while her other four fingers wrapped around towards the back of Ashley's head. She gently wiped Ashley's tears away with her right hand, and with her left hand she slowly lifted Ashley's gaze to meet her own. Shepard could lose herself in the depth of Ashley's warm brown eyes, and rested her right hand on Ashley's shoulder once she was done wiping away the girl's tears. Now with the other woman's attention Shepard flashed her a warm smile, **"Hey, it's okay. I'm here."**

 **"I'm not going with them, Jess."**

Shepard's stomach clinched with anxiety at Ashley's stubbornness, and she began to concede mentally on her position. She'd wanted to send Ashley with the Mako team to protect her, because going with the _Normandy_ was a risky option—but it was clear that Ashley wouldn't go along with that. She pinched her eyes closed for a long minute, her head softly nodding, **"Alright. We move out as soon as the Mako clears the Conduit, get your shit together Commander Williams."**

Something resolved on Ashley's face when Shepard opened her eyes, a peace settling over the woman's soft features. She thought she could see surprise blooming in Ash's brown eyes, **"Aye aye Skipper."**

While Shepard had been occupied with Chadwell and Ashley the other marines had done an efficient job at forcing the salarians and their work into the Mako. Now that she had resolved the disagreement with Ashley she was able to pull back and check on the progress. Standing only a few feet behind her was Lieutenant Donnel, an awkward look on his face at having had to witness the intimacy of the two officers. **"Erm ma'am,"** the young man gave Shepard a brisk nod, and his attention shifted to the side hoping to get caught up in none of the personal business that Shepard had just disengaged from. **"The IFV is loaded up, and Grizzly is inside with the salarians and the other two** _ **Normandy**_ **marines you left behind. We've still got another seat, who else do you want to send?"**

 **"I'll send Haight."** She stepped past him and Donnel fell in step with her. "Haight!" Shepard called out to the distant Staff Sergeant.

The woman turned away from the marines she'd been bullshitting with to turn and face the Commander, **"Ma'am?"**

"L **oad up—you're in charge of the Mako marines and the salarians. See that they get through safely and their work is handed over to Hackett."**

 **"Aye ma'am."** Haight was still in her armor from the fight, and only had to grab a few weapons she'd laid down before she was in the Mako and ready to take off.

 **"Cowboy, you're clear to move out. You won't be able to radio back when you get there, so Godspeed."**

 **"Copy that, Eagle. Cowboy out."** The fighting vehicle came to life with a roar as Havens brought its engines online, and it surged forwards. The hulking IFV's wheels were so massive that Shepard subconsciously felt like she might be crushed by one while it blasted past and took a reflexive step backwards. The Mako barreled towards the Conduit, never slowing down, and at the last moment it boosted itself up into the air.

Watching the IFV blink out of existence in a blue flash still left her feeling a little stunned, even though she knew what'd happened and had been through the Conduit herself. **"Alright marines, we move out now. Worbaar, do you have any of your heavy ordinance? Breaching charges? Energy lance?"**

 **"Yeah, I got some stuff, Ma'am."** Worbaar approached from the cluster of marines, reaching in one of her pouches for something. **"What do you need me to do?"**

 **"I need a hole in that dome big enough to let us out, but not big enough that it could be seen by any patrol craft that might be out there. I'm sure the batarians caught the conduit coming online on their scanners—it uses a ton of energy to transport across the galaxy. They'll be trying to find a way to get to the Conduit, even though they likely don't know what it is—that means we're on a limited time table. "**

 **"Oh of course."** Worbaar scoffed as she pulled a detonator from her belt and headed for a nearby supply crate. **"** _ **Cyzilie**_ **disagrees with this batshit plan so** _ **Cyzilie**_ **has to kick off the plan, real nice Commander. But yes, I can do it."**

Shepard thought she caught a roll of the Corporal's eyes from the side of her visor, **"Glad you understand my style of command, Corporal."**

With more muttered grumbling Worbaar collected some breaching charges from the crate and went to work on the dome, leaving Shepard with the remaining 9 marines. **"Once we're out of the dome it's gonna be a fast-paced trek. I'm not sure what kind of tech the batarians have onboard their ships, and I'm not sure how closely they're watching the ground, but we'll need to move fast to get to the** _ **Normandy.**_ **By my estimates it shouldn't take more than ten minutes on foot at a decent pace to get there, and I've got a trick up my sleeve for keeping the batarians busy once we do get aboard."**

* * *

The ambient sounds of Ilos made her uncomfortable, most likely because of how closely they simultaneously resembled the sounds of Earth at night, while remaining strikingly different. The distant sounds, the chirps of birds and crunches of wild fauna set Masters-At-Arms Emmy Brakefield on edge, and it was by far the most uncomfortable part of her current post. She could hear the hissing of distant insects the way that Earth's cicadas cried at night, but the pitch was wrong. What the jungle did have in common with Earth was the heat, it bared down on the sailor in unstopping waves. She adjusted her stance, shifting weight from one foot to another as her hand wiped sweat across her brow—though ultimately, she only smeared the sweat further across her face and across the back of her gloved hand.

Rather than the bulky ceramic armor of the Alliance's marines, as a part of the navy Emmy wore a slimmer and more compact type of armor. To better work in the narrow halls and decks of warships she wore her BDUs, a drab blue-gray color, with an anti-ballistic vest overtop and a faceless helmet. As a sailor her line of work meant that if she was ever in fierce ground combat, a situation where she'd need the marine hard suit, a series of things had gone wrong. The only reason she was on the ground at the time being was to scout for and assist the MARDET party inbound towards the _Normandy._

The sleek frigate was a few dozen meters behind her, nestled into a narrow valley cut through the jungle and waiting for the marines. Though she was only running idle systems to stay aloft, the crew had to maintain the IES for stealth—which meant with each passing minute the inside of the frigate grew a little hotter, and the crew a little closer to boiling alive.

To tell the truth, Emmy Brakefield was glad to be out of the hot ship and in the jungle, even if the humid heat around her did make her _think_ she was being boiled alive **. "Gunny, I've got movement on the horizon—switching to thermal sights to see if I can make out any shapes."** The voice that cut through her ear was that of fellow Masters-At Arms Carolyn Biggers, to Emmy's left in the forest with the same objective.

" **Copy Bigs, I'll switch over too, see if I can't get a vantage on whoever's coming up. If the Commander doesn't hurry up she's going to have a toasty crew."** Emmy pulled a dull black set of binoculars from a pouch on her webbing and pressed the bulky device to her face. It was night on Ilos now, which didn't do much for the humid heat of the jungle but did mean there was less wildlife to pick up on her thermal sights. Sure enough, in the distance she could make out a few silhouettes painted shades of yellow orange and red in the optics, just as Biggers had said. **"Yeah I've got a visual too Bigs. Keep your wits about you, could be blinks instead of our guys."**

As the figures drew closer Emmy began to recognize the distinctive armor of Alliance marines, and even more notably the red striped armor of an N7—Commander Shepard. Emmy stepped out from the spot she'd been standing behind a wide tree, and waved a hand at the approaching figures, **"Commander Shepard?"** Her voice was soft and light, but it carried through the air well enough the Commander should've been able to hear her.

Emmy had the attention of the party now, and though they were silent for a moment longer she could see more marines coming into view—eleven in total. Peeping from behind Shepard came Cyzilie Worbaar, one of the marines Emmy was fairly close to. The Corporal jostled into Emmy with her shoulder playfully and grinned, **"Good to fuckin' see you Brakes. Tell me we're here—this jungle is hot as balls."** Behind Worbaar stood Commander Shepard, not speaking but very clearly hoping for the same answer as Worbaar.

" **Affirmative, right this way—the Lieutenant Commander is waiting for you."**

 **A/N:** I hope you all enjoyed the chapter! It's a bit slower than past chapters, but is a lot of moving pieces where they need to be for future events :)


	11. Departures

**A/N:** Sorry for the wait for this update, exam season, a cold, and a case of writer's block all conspired to delay this chapter, but here it is :)

 **Ilos**

 **September 14** **th** **, 2186**

The feeling of her ship once again underneath her feet, its familiar hums and vibrations like an orchestra around her, made the hair on the back of Shepard's neck stand up in anticipation. The Normandy was surging back to life at her command and she'd had to briefly steady herself against the Command Podium's railing to keep from losing her balance. She and the ground team had burst aboard the ship with an urgent speed that warned those in her path not to delay her. All around her the crew had stared, some hiding it better than others, at the captain they'd assumed dead for weeks now. She'd caught sight of Garrus in the corner of the CIC, his avian eyes locked on her like he was afraid she might disappear were he to lose sight of her for even a moment. She wanted desperately to have a proper reunion with her old friend, to pull him into a tight hug and exchange stories of what they'd been through, but that would be saved for late—right now she had to finish saving them.

She could tell from some of the shaking as the Normandy navigated over the forest, and from the occasional creak and groan, that the frigate had taken a beating when the batarians had shown up. Still, she knew that the ship had suffered worse and still performed, and she knew Joker could milk all the performance available from this ship. Besides, they didn't need acrobatics, just haste towards the conduit. The homemade prothean relay was looming ahead of the Normandy and was just visible from the where she stood in the CIC.

Overhead the batarians had only just caught sight of the ship's sudden movement, as Joker had taken the _Normandy_ out of IES to give shields and propulsion every last ounce of power they could muster. Their fighters were scrambling to reach the ship, but at their current speed they would be through the Conduit before the fighters could close within firing range—but that posed another problem. The other side of the Conduit was the Presidium, and while the Mako had managed to slip through fine, a ship the _Normandy's_ size could be torn apart by the twisting arrival and impact. Still, it was their best chance to slip away from Ilos with their lives, without having to pierce a batarian blockade and limp for two weeks.

The ship began to violently shudder as they drew closer, blue tendrils of lightning snapping at its hull from friction caused by the Conduit. They surged the precious distance between the sleek frigate and its target, and then all went a blinding white as the Conduit wrapped the _Normandy_ in its low mass field and flung it across the galaxy.

* * *

 **The** _ **SSV Kilimanjaro**_

 **September 15** **th** **, 2186**

The damage from their arrival through the Conduit had been intense. The _Normandy,_ while sleeker and thinner than a destroyer or carrier, was not even remotely a small ship. From her vantage point aboard the _Kilimanjaro,_ stationed just above the wreckage of the Citadel, Shepard could see the damage that had been wrought during their exit. Much of the support structure for the Presidium's circular shape in that area had been torn apart, and the already-damaged buildings which had once been embassies and offices in the area were little more than mangled wreckage and floating debris. The crash had sheared one of the _Normandy's_ support wings clean off and had mangled another severely. The impact breached the hull in several places, leading to the venting of the cargo hold—three of her sailors were still in the _Kilimanjaro's_ ICU in critical condition from oxygen deprivation.

Shepard was standing in a quiet section of the ship, a slim deck with a wide wall-consuming viewport and a few small utilitarian seats. For ships this large the Alliance actually devoted space to crew leisure, and observation. A dreadnaught like the _KMJ,_ one of the affectionate nicknames the marines had coined for the _Kilimanjaro_ , there were so many personnel aboard that at any given point—when not in battle—there was a large population of off-duty crewmen. She hadn't told anyone where she was going when she'd come here half an hour earlier, but that wasn't unusual for her. Shepard, even when aboard the _Normandy_ , needed periods of solace and contemplation. Normally she was able to find that inside her cabin but that wouldn't do here. She had a temporary bunk, but there were too many people worried about her or wanting to reunite with her for any peace to be found in such an obvious spot; and so she had come here, to a place few would think to find her. Even now, staring out the viewport at the swirly planet below, and the crippled station, she found a slight jolt of terror in her stomach. It'd been year since she was taken down with the first _Normandy,_ and left to suffocate in the blackness of space, but it still haunted her dreams some nights. For the first few months the sight of the void generated terror in her, but slowly she came to regain her sea legs for the stars.

" **The first time was just down there, you know."**

The voice came from a few feet behind her and caught her off-guard. Shepard spun, partially coming out of her seat, to see who had managed to sneak up on her. Looming above her, far taller than her now given she was still seated, was Garrus Vakarian. She gave the turian a curious eye, questioning partly what he was doing here, and how he'd known _she_ was here. He seemed to predict her question and his mandibles flared into what she'd come to recognize as a smile from the alien, **"You should know that I know you're not as much of an extrovert as you let everyone believe—you couldn't stand too much public attention from even the** _ **Normandy's**_ **crew without withdrawing to your cabin and pretending you had paperwork to do, let alone handle reporters."**

Her curious expression morphed to a teasing smile and she cocked an eyebrow at him, **"I was going to ask what first time you were talking about, the first time you tested 'reach'?"**

His mandibles flared again, this time in a different expression, showing embarrassment the best a turian could with faces that couldn't flush. **"The first time we met."**

She patted the seat next to her and turned her attention back to the viewport. **"Why don't you sit down Vakarian? We've been through enough for a few days."**

The lanky turian lumbered towards the seat and slid down into it awkwardly, **"I'm just glad that I didn't end up being in command when an Alliance Warship crashed, intentionally, into the Presidium. You can have that one Shepard."**

Shepard returned his joke with a tired and annoyed sigh, her face sinking down into her hands a little as she turned to face him. **"It was mostly rushing to get everyone medical treatment and debriefing when we arrived, so no one said anything, but I'm waiting to see which member from the Flag Rank Fan Club I've made through my career chooses to take up the crash with me. I'm also not looking forward to how long** _ **Normandy**_ **is going to be in drydock from damage-sustained."**

Garrus chuckled with a low sub-tone laugh and rested an elbow on his knee, **"You need some time off Shepard, some time away from fighting and running. I thought you were dead, we all thought you were dead."**

" **To be perfectly fair, I thought I was dead too."**

" **You know what I mean. You need to rest, to heal, and then to return to** _ **normal;**_ **not what normal has** _ **become.**_ **"**

Shepard let out another of her tired sighs, turning to look back at her long-time friend and brother-in-arms. Her eyes found another spot beyond the viewport to focus on, **"We barely made it… look at all the damage we took just** _ **surviving.**_ **"**

From the edge of her vision she could see her old friend nod, **"What happened to you up there? I was with you on the ground until you evacuated Ashley, and the last I saw Harbinger annihilated Hammer team."**

Shepard pursed her lips together. She didn't like remembering the night, nor did she like retelling it, but Garrus had been there. He'd been the one she trusted to watch her back, and the one she charged with taking Ashley to safety when the _Normandy_ swooped in for evacuation. **"After the blast I scraped myself onto the Citadel, and Anderson was already there. We were ambushed by the Illusive Man before we could open the arms, and he seemed to have some indoctrination-like control where he could manipulate our bodies… he made me shoot Anderson."** In vividly dark detail Shepard began retelling the story of her fight aboard the Citadel, of the Catalyst and her choice, and her flight to get off before the blast.

When the story was done the two of them sat in a still silence, the weight of the tale bearing down on Garrus. Finally he patted her on the shoulder, and his voice took on a sympathetic tone, **"I'm sorry I couldn't have been there for you then Shepard…"** His voice trailed off in a way that implied he wasn't done, but for another half minute neither spoke, **"I'm a terrible choice of timing for things… I wanted to tell you face to face that I have to leave—the Primearch has asked me to come back to serve a ranking role in our military, given how many of our skilled we lost... I must do this Shepard. It's how my people are."**

The news of Garrus leaving, her right hand, stabbed at Shepard's chest like a blade. She'd known that his time on the Normandy would likely be limited, given he wasn't human, but she was never prepared for it to come. **"I understand Garrus. We'll see each other again."**

* * *

There was a dull underlying pain along the inside of Shepard's left arm. It'd been weeks since the crash, and a while still since the surgery that had repaired her implants, but she was just now noticing there was still lingering pain from that. The cuts and bruises on her face had mostly healed, with only subtle dark scars to mark their existence. Slowly she flexed her arm as best she could in the stiff dress uniform, wondering if it was the damage done by the crash, or the inorganic repair of her implants, that had initially caused the pain.

With a frustrated tug she adjusted the collar of her uniform, the tight buttons scratching her throat in a way that made it itch. **"I want you to know I hate having to do this."**

" **All the years we worked in the Verge, the Traverse, and Terminus, and you think I didn't pick up on your hatred for formal and official meetings?"** Admiral Hackett stood to Shepard's side, his cap firmly on his head and his sharp military blues a contrast to her deep special forces red. The man's stony face was shaped into a bit of a smile at the verbal jab, but he seemed just as dreadfully inclined towards their coming meeting as she.

" **I just wanted it said, so that when you're being debriefed for a formal report on this meeting, I have that in writing."**

The older man was clearly doing his best not to sigh, but his amused grin faded to a wary frown. **"What makes you think the meeting will go that badly?"**

She just cut her eyes towards him, a serious scowl replacing what had been her stubbornly annoyed frown. **"I've just got one of those feelings."**

It was still only the day after she'd arrived at the Citadel in the _Normandy,_ and already she was having to be subjected to speaking with the Council. Her only saving grace was that they weren't present over Earth, having rather stayed behind where the rest of C-Space forces were, and thus she and Hackett would be connected to them over VidComm. Presently they were standing in front of the floor-sized VidComm projector in the _Kilimanjaro's_ bridge, waiting for the connection from the Council to come through and begin the meeting.

A soft hum whirred up from the floor, indicating the projectors were warming up, and a second later the distorted image of the three Council Members came to life, broadcast through one of the few available QEC transmitters left functional. It was the asari councilor who spoke first, her hands folded together in a reconciliatory and humble manner, **"Shepard, on behalf of the entire Council allow me to say that we are so glad to see you survived, and our sympathies go out to you about Admiral Anderson. We also have the utmost pride in you and have proved yourself worthy of having been Earth's first Spectre time and time again."**

The salarian councilor cut in next, her tone wary **"I've yet to read official reports on your trip to Ilos…"** she was cautious in the way she described the operation, careful to make sure she didn't show the disdain obviously held by the Council regarding her roguish maverick actions. **"How long do you feel you and your ship will need for recovery before you're ready to return to service? The destruction of the relays has left the edges of C-Space quite unstable.."**

That was it, that question was the match Shepard had known would be struck, and the salarian councilor had done just that. Her blood boiled near immediately, her posture shifting to one so stiff that Hackett spared her a glance, hopeful that it hadn't affected her in ways he knew it had. **"Return to service…"** The words fell out of Shepard's mouth in a confused blur, while her anger summoned the tirade that had been simmering inside her for months.

" **I only meant resuming your Spectre duties for you, thankfully with the war over things have relaxed quite a bit."**

The memories of what it'd been like to flee Earth while it burned flooded through her mind. They were joined by the poignant memory of having to drag the newly-appointed Primearch Victus and Garrus both away from Palaven as it burned. This war had claimed so much from all of them, and its devastation was the only reason Garrus was having to leave her now, to fill the holes left in his people's military. **"You can shove my Spectre badge up your ass. You're lucky that I don't begin advocating with all my might to whoever the Alliance is going to appoint as AG to have charges pressed against each one of you."**

The asari councilor spoke up again, sensing that her salarian colleague had triggered Shepard's notoriously precarious temper. **"Commander, that seems a bit much. We understand you've been through more stress these last few months than anyone deserves to, feel free to take as much time as you need to recover before returning."** The blue-skinned alien cut her eyes at the salarian, issuing a **desperate warning not to provoke Shepard in a similar manner again.**

" **Was I not clear? I hold each of you nearly as damn responsible for the war as I do the reapers themselves. You can consider our relationship done, and you can consider yourself on notice from the** **Alliance."** The last bit had been a heat of the moment blurt on her part, and not something she'd checked over with Hackett. If the Admiral had stiffened or otherwise reacted, she hadn't noticed. Instead he stood firm and seemed to support everything she said through his mere body language.

" **Commander, that is ridiculous—"**

" **Ridiculous? Councilor the Asari hid a prothean VI on Thessia for** _ **millennia**_ **without sharing its existence with the galactic community. Besides the leagues of advancement the other civilizations could have had, it ended up that the most vital piece of knowledge for the Crucible was on that V.I. How many millions could we have saved if we'd known about the Catalyst sooner? Or about the reaper war earlier? During the war, when we needed the best and brightest from around the Galaxy to work on the Crucible in hopes we might survive, the Salarian Union pulled all their support** _ **because we wouldn't enter a deal in bad faith with the Krogan.**_ **Did you think the reapers would be preferential in their genocide? That if the rest of the galaxy failed with the Crucible you could hide out and avoid them? The reapers weren't** **discriminatory in their destruction, Councilor. And** _ **you,**_ **"** she jabbed a finger towards the turian councilor **, "You stood right there and** _ **mocked me**_ **over the existence of the reapers when we could've been preparing. You three can go** _ **fuck**_ **yourselves,"** she pulled the Spectre badge from her dress uniform and threw it at the VidComm's camera, **"I resign."**

The VidComm was terminated quickly as she stormed for an exit, fiery red hair fluttering behind her. Hackett caught her pace and came lock step with her, **"You just told the most universally accepted governing body in the Galaxy to go fuck themselves while in full Alliance Dress."**

" **I didn't really plan it, it just all rolled off my tongue."** The truth was that the salarian had triggered something in her mind, a trigger that dredged up dozens of memories. She remembered Kaidan Alenko, all warm smiles and kindness, burning in a nuclear blast as she escaped Virmire. She remembered Mordin Solus, stoic bravery even as he fought to destroy what had been the legacy of his career to save a race of people. She thought of David Anderson, her naval father and closest confidant, dying next to her on a burning citadel. All of that had been something that could be forgotten and smoothed over by the Councilors, and she was a tool to stabilize _their_ space while they worked out a way to restore travel and communication.

" **Telling Commanding Officers to fuck off has been something that seems to commonly roll off your tongue. I'll run damage control for you as far as Alliance Top Brass are concerned, because surely some will pounce over this."**

" **I appreciate it, sir."**

* * *

After months of combat where he only wore his BDUs or battle armor, the feeling of James Vega's tight crimson red dress jacket felt strange. The way it bound at his shoulders made the marine subconsciously worry about being caught off-guard should a fight arise, despite the significant amount of security present. He had been summoned, alongside the other marines from the _Normandy_ and several relevant officers already in system, to a military ceremony in one of the more formal gathering rooms aboard the _Kilimanjaro._

His fellow N7 stood a couple yards ahead of him, amidst a line of other officers and Alliance dignitaries. Starting on the right there was the newly appointed Prime Minister Nyah Dowling, formerly a lower level executive within the Alliance Government, but ultimately one of the most senior surviving executives. Beside him was Kyie Pike, the Alliance's new Secretary of Defense. Pike was a retired Naval Commodore of several years, having left the military shortly before the breakout of the Eden Prime war. On her side was Admiral Mikhailovich, the older man looked like a raging fire that had been put out by a spray of water, below the surface he still simmered with an unseen flame. The next in line after Mikhailovich was Shepard, who looked equally as uncomfortable as Vega in her dress uniform, and to her side Admiral Hackett.

There was a man, a few paces past Hackett, who stood at the small podium setup for this event. The speaker, who had introduced himself as the Kallum Briggs—the new director of Alliance Intelligence. Briggs was delivering an inspirational speech to those gathered, the motley crew of officers, noncommissioned, and enlisted personnel. His speech focused on the importance of intelligence during the reaper war, focusing heavily on how vital he found the intelligence contributed to Shepard from his efforts to be. For most of those gathered that was enough to work them into, at the least, a roused patriotism. That was a theme across the Alliance these days, it wasn't hard to rile up patriotism and fear wherever you went—near annihilation brings that out in a population. To Vega, a man who had stood by Shepard since the moment the Reapers arrived on earth, it felt hollow and self-exaggeratory.

Once Briggs had reached the conclusion of his speech it was time for him to surrender the podium, his entire body language still rigid and hard pressed from the passion behind his comments. The next to step up to the podium was the rugged, stone carved Admiral Hackett himself. Hackett's remarks to the crowd were the reason that many gathered today were present, James included, and he could feel an almost surreal anxiety in his stomach. The Admiral began his remarks by highlighting Shepard's career, her heroism at Elysium, Eden Prime, and the battle of the citadel. Her struggle through Akuze, and Virmire, and her death during the crash of the _Normandy SR-1._ Few gathered could have possibly been ignorant to those details, but it reminded them all what she'd been through—and it likely annoyed Shepard to her bones.

" **Commander Shepard has shown no scarcity of courage and heroism, even in the face of a galaxy-wide threat. She was the first of humanity to be made a Spectre, and through that authority she prevented, delayed, and then ended the Reaper invasion. I believe it's time the Alliance shows due appreciation, and as such I'm honored to present you the rank of Captain, Shepard."**

* * *

The promotion ceremony had been short and sweet, mostly, and for that Shepard was thankful. She'd been forced to listen to the droning of a line of politicians, but the worst part was to stand in front of everyone as her service accolades were lauded before those gathered. _That_ part had been Hackett's doing, no doubt a friendly jab back at her given how he'd witnessed her reaction to such after the Blitz. With the new rank pinned onto her crimson dress uniform Shepard was free to mill about the room, exchanging remarks with some of the officers gathered, and receiving a hushed congratulations from her marines that'd been in attendance.

She had been enjoying the relative quiet of the room's edge, her drink occasionally brought up for a sip while she scanned over those present. From the left side of her peripheral vision Shepard caught sight of someone approaching and turned her attention to find Ashley Williams slowly approaching her. She had a smile plastered on her face when she drew closer to Shepard, and then—with an imposed drawl—said, **"Oh Captain, my captain."**

Shepard closed her eyes and let her head lean back to hit the wall, **"You've been waiting three years to use that, haven't you?"**

Ashley just gave her a partial shrug before coming to rest against the wall near Shepard, **"In case that didn't get the message across, congratulations skipper, it's long overdue."** The words were followed by a smile so warm and sweet it might've been glazed onto Ashley's face. Shepard thanked her, and for a few moments the two sat in silence. **"Did you really tell the council to go fuck themselves?"**

Shepard grew deathly silent for several moments, though her mouth twisted into a self-amused grin, **"In those exact words."**

Ashley snorted an amused response and took a long swig of her drink. **"You know that makes problems through right—? I'm a Spectre still, the only one humanity has now, and there's no way they'd let me stay aboard a ship where I'm not the CO, or the CO isn't a Spectre."**

Shepard had considered a lot of the ways that her telling the Council to fuck themselves might come back to bite her, but none of them had factored in that Ashley would have to go her own way. Still, the news didn't leave a surprised expression on Shepard's face; the newly-minted Captain bore her trademark blank stone face. Finally, she nodded a bit, gulping down some of her drink to buy her a little more time, **"I know, I couldn't do it anymore though Ash. I couldn't go beck and call for the Council when they just caused this—"** her hand motioned towards the nearest viewport to demonstrate the damage from the war, **"and every chance they were given along the way to help make things easier, they turned their noses up at it. All three of them."**

" **Hey, Jess, I know, I know."** Ashley's voice was thick, but soft. She had a way of cutting through Shepard's anger, or her anxieties, to calm the woman in a few could. **"I know what they've done, and I know how boneheaded they are—but the Alliance has to have someone there. We need the access it offers. I've gotta be that person for the Alliance."**

Yet another walking away from her. Garrus had only just departed, and now Ashley too. Both had legitimate reasons, but it left a sore spot in Shepard's chest, she didn't like losing trusted members of her crew. **"I know, Ash. I understand."**

" **We'll make it work Skipper."**


	12. Act Two

**June 9** **th** **, 2189**

" **Major, the Admiral's office is attempting to make contact once again. Would you like to take it in the Comms Room?"**

" **No. Kill the line, I just… I don't have time yet."**

There was a cloud of tension that hung so thickly over the CIC that it could've been cut with a blade. They were drifting through space, near where the Phoenix Massing relay once had been, with the IES stealth active. Major Jessica Shepard stood on the captain's podium, the light of her situation map washing a haunting blue light across her face. In front of her the holographic display detailed in real time as her current operation soured.

Two blinking red indicators told her that some of her marines had been injured, and to the side she could see their health indicators showing that they were only somewhat stable. The mission had been a simple observation and reconnaissance mission, one that in theory should have seen no combat. Instead, Shepard waited tersely aboard the _Normandy_ as her marines scrambled for an evacuation point. She could step in now, try to extract them, but the planet had a defense fleet that she had little data on. Instead she had chosen to send _another_ Kodiak shuttle to extract the downed team. That shuttle was roughly four minutes from discovery, and the wounded team was pinned down.

" **Ma'am, tight beam transmission from the shuttle team. Their scanners are picking up a mercenary patrol inbound, forty-five seconds to likely discovery."**

She'd had four minutes, now she had forty-five seconds. Angrily Shepard pounded her palm against the crone railing of her podium. **"Joker, you hear me?"**

" **Aye ma'am."**

" **You and Vega begin plotting a course to the planet. Push us as close as you can with IES on, but if shit hits the fan or we start cooking, drop the cloak and put our shields up."**

" **Copy ma'am… accelerating now."**

" **Ma'am… There's another incoming line."** The nervous voice of her communications officer, Senior Chief Petty Officer Katy Hacker, the replacement for Samantha Traynor. **"It's the Admiral… again."**

Shepard inhaled a long breath through her nose, pinching her eyes shut for a moment of peace before turning her head to face Hacker. **"Petty Officer, if you see a call from the Admiral you can do one of two things. You can kill the line, or you can answer and tell the Admiral yourself that I don't have the** _ **fucking**_ **time right now."**

This stunt would strain things for her and Hackett, in a time when things were already strained between the two of them. **"Lola, internal temps are reaching the upper end of acceptably healthy."** The drawling voice was that of Commander James Vega, her Executive Officer and fellow N7.

" **You make the call James. Work with Joker and cut it as late as possible."**

" **Aye ma'am… I'll make the right call."**

It was times like this that Shepard missed having Ashley aboard, and the time she'd had during the war with Ashley as her XO. Vega was a competent officer, and a capable marine, but he wasn't Ashley—she had a way of knowing what was on Shepard's mind when Shepard needed her to. She straightened her posture to ward off the incoming wave of sadness that accompanied her thoughts of Ashley, eyes narrowing at the display.

They were still a decent distance from the planet, but already Shepard could feel sweat building beneath her uniform, leaving patches of it damp and uncomfortable. Nervously she dug her fingernails into her palm, eyes gripping closed again to try and clear the uncomfortable jitters form her mind. Shepard didn't have a problem with the leadership, or competence, required of being an officer—but the need to stay behind and oversee the strategic execution of the mission ate away at her. She was a boots on the ground marine, a gun in hand raider, and to watch as her marines took bullets on her missions—without her beside them—set a fire inside her.

The building heat amidst the CIC only worked to worsen Shepard's discomfort, but moments later she heard a low-dull clicking sound as the IES was shut off. James Vega's unsophisticated and cocky voice came suddenly through the 1MC, distorted by the tinny sound of its speakers. **"Sorry for the sweat bath ladies and gentlemen, the Major wanted to put the** _ **Normandy**_ **on its toes. We're approaching Titchihara, though unless your boarding pass says Tactical Unit 1, you can't disembark. Thank you for flying Air** _ **Normandy**_ **."**

" **Putting Vega and Joker in the cockpit together, and letting them call it work, was a terrible decision ma'am."** This from Sergeant Major Emmie Brakefield, the _Normandy's_ buffer and chief Masters-at-Arms.

" **I'm beginning to agree with you."** Shepard mused, though Vega's interruption had kept her from breaking from the CIC and joining Tac1 on their deployment.

" **Sixty-seconds to drop, Tac1. 1-6, do you have a greenlight?"** There was a pause as the Squad Leader, Worbaar, replied to Vega directly, and then Vega was back on the 1MC. **"Affirmative, 1-6 gave me the green. We're locked in approach, standby."**

The sixty seconds waiting for Tactical Unit 1 to deploy were some of the longest that Shepard had suffered in a while. With the war over, and her Raider Vessel relegated to mainly patrols, there had been little action—and little fright—in her life. Finally, the screen in front of her lit up, while Vega's voice cut back in to announce that Tac1 was away. **"Here we go."**

* * *

" **When I call, you have your goddamn communications officer patch me through, and you take the call. Do you understand Major?"**

" **Yes sir."** Her jaw was set, giving her face a taught appearance, but the holograms aboard the _Normandy's_ communications suite weren't sensitive enough to pick that up.

" **Get authorization from me the next time you want to deviate from the operational area and recce an enemy installation. Your report says you almost lost one down there, how do I explain that to the PM—that one of my Majors deviated from plan without my signature, and now I'm sending home a pine box."**

" **Understood."** Below the cutoff for the camera, Shepard cut her hand through the air like a knife, signaling Hacker to cut the feed. **"Fucking prick."** Admiral Mikhailovich, head of the 63rd Scout Flotilla, was technically her direct superior now. Though she and Admiral Hackett typically worked directly together, he was the head of the entire Fifth Fleet, as well as the military, and direct coordination with him was rarer. The _Normandy_ had been routed into Mikhailovich's 63rd to curtail the border skirmishes raging between the edges of Alliance Traverse space, and Terminus.

She ducked out of the _Normandy's_ comm room and wove her way through the War Room towards the CIC. **"Joker, set a course back towards Ursae Station, we need to get our wounded to medical treatment, and regroup with the rest of the 63** **rd** **."**

" **Aye ma'am… we're enroute now. Fifteen minutes to relay."**

The rest of her walk through the CIC was a quiet one. They'd broken away from active combat over two hours ago now, with all the marines still alive, and most of the stations' shifts had changed. The CIC hummed only with the sound of clicking keys, creaking chairs, and the soft beeping feedback of duty station computers.

She passed through the CIC and into the central elevator without a word spoken, and luckily without a soul inside the lift itself. Shepard wasn't in a _bad_ mood, she was just in a _tired_ mood. She was exhausted from the failed operation and exhausted from being cooped up in recon and scouting jobs without any active operations ongoing.

She carried a stack of paper reports that'd been printed off for her review and signature, as well as a bundle of datapads she needed to look over as far as the medical reports and gear reports form the operation went. The lift opened with a soft whooshing, and Shepard was thankful that she could count on her cabin guards to know when not to try and chat it up with her.

She slipped inside her cabin and finally got to collapse at her desk and let the stack of reports and paperwork pile on the diskspace in front of her. As she scanned the first of them, she caught sight of a framed picture of Ashley on her desk, the dark-haired woman's soft eyes catching Shepard's gaze even through a photograph. Shepard smiled slightly at the picture, and then reached out to set it face down, to stave off some of the oncoming anxiety.

* * *

" **Back it up for me, Lola, are we on the clock right now or not?"**

James Vega was a pace behind Shepard and on her right, and he was staring at her with a confused look. The N7 was dressed in his SAMC T-Shirt, and a pair of drab green cargo pants, his quick choice of 'civilian clothes'. Shepard kept walking without turning to face him, **"A little bit of both. I got a message from Mikhailovich's assistant with some directions, and that's what we're working on now."**

" **Extraordinarily, that only barely answers my question."** Ursae station was a far sight from the magnitude of the New Arcturus, or even the original Arcturus, and the Citadel. Ursae was largely a military installation, with a small civilian district with cramped housing and commercial sectors, most of which housed services suited to marines. Presently, dressed in a black tank-top and a pair of white shorts that went a third of the way down her thigh, Shepard was leading Vega through one of the dingy walkways in the civilian area. She might have looked like a civilian, albeit a utilitarian one, were it not for the multitude of scars and burns present on her upper arms, shoulders, and legs that were exposed by her outfit. **"Care to explain some of the cloak and dagger bullshit?"**

Shepard was pushing open the door to a value clothing store, Vega still in tow behind her, when the Commander posed his question. **"I'm just following the instructions**." To her amusement Shepard could hear muffled cursing from Vega as he pretended to be interested in some of the women's clothing in front of him. **"You don't have to pretend like you're shopping for leggings, Vega, we're not doing spy shit. We're just having an unofficial meeting and I needed a new sports bra."** He just cut her a dark look with his eyes as he stepped back from the clothes rack and settled in to wait Shepard out.

Only three or four minutes after their interaction, Shepard caught sight of a late-twenties-year-old woman dressed in a professional business attire step into the room. It wasn't the woman's presence that caught Shepard's attention, she was well within the shop's typical clientele, but instead her familiarity—Mikhailovich's assistant. Dorika Pallas, a thin brunette woman with a perpetually worried expression, was now headed straight towards her, a data-pad in hand. **"Major,"** She nodded cordially, **"I have to say your choice in meeting place is… interesting. The others have just come into meet at the Admiral's office."**

" **You've gotta be shitting me, instructions my ass."** Vega cut in, his highly annoyed expression aimed directly at Shepard.

In response, the Major just gave a half smile and shrugged playfully, **"What? I told you I needed some clothes from this place, and I didn't want to go alone."**

During this short intermission the Admiral's assistant looked increasingly uncomfortable, until she cut back in. **"Right… anyways, the Admiral didn't want to send this over standard communication channels so there isn't a paper trail—he's holding a briefing in conference room 1-3a tomorrow afternoon at 1500. I can't discuss much more, but he'll fill you in tomorrow."** The woman gave her another skeptical look, likely as a result of being drug across Ursae Station to a value clothes store, just to inform Shepard about an upcoming meeting.

Once the assistant was away Vega began shaking his head, muttering more complaints aloud, **"Isn't this what Williams is for? So she can do all this sports bra bullshit with you?"**

Once again facing away from Vega, looking at different sports bras and holding them up to her inquisitively, Shepard turned her head slightly to catch sight of Vega with one eye and smirked. **"Ashley prefers them off."**

Vega just wrinkled his face, shaking his head to discourage continuing, **"I'm both disgusted and aroused… and disgusted with myself for both of those. You're disgusting."**

Despite Shepard's grating prank on Vega, he spent the rest of the afternoon with her as she shopped for various small things she'd needed aboard the _Normandy._ After another hour or so of milling shops in the civilian district of Ursae, some of which evoked similar grumblings of disgust from Vega as earlier, the pair headed back for the ship. It was a quiet night for both officers, neither with anything pressing to pursue while the frigate was docked and its their injured marines seeking medical attention. Before long the two were together again, this time dressed in uniform and lockstep inbound towards Conference room 1-3a in the Naval Compound where Mikhailovich's field office was located.

The conference room they stepped into was utilitarian, and barren of any decoration or cosmetics. It was a stark gray room with a dated faux wooden table at the center, and a dozen or so chairs circled around. All but two of the chairs were filled by other attendees, all of whom looked military of some sort. Shepard recognized maybe half of them and realized quickly that they all had something in common—they were all N7s. She pieced together the nature of their meeting quickly, glancing at herself and then Vega, this was a special operations brief.

A moment later, as if to confirm her suspicions, two more men walked in—one of whom she recognized as Admiral Mikhailovich. The other was dressed similarly, likewise wearing the blue dress uniform of a Systems Alliance Officer, with the three stars of a Vice Admiral on his shoulders. His name tag introduced him as Vice Admiral Leonore Gafford, a name Shepard might've heard before but didn't initially recognize.

" **Alright ladies and gentlemen let's get down to business. This is Vice Admiral Gafford,"** he motioned to the latter **, "he's in need of our top-grade special operatives, and you all happen to be the finest the to leave the Villa and still be in the service. I'll hand it over to him for briefing."**

The hawkish Admiral stepped back some, and allowed Gafford, a softer and more shapely man to step up to attention. **"Thank you all for coming out," he began, his voice softer than Mikhailovich's. "I've been trying to put this operation together for some time, but AIA has cockblocked every effort I've made to send in in a patrol or request an operative, all in the name of OpSec."**

The Vice Admiral stepped forward and set a palm-sized disk-shaped holographic projector down on the table. It displayed a projection of what it labeled as the Typhon system, specifically the planet Aite. The earth-like world was surrounded by several massive rings, and on the side of the projection scrolled relevant information. **"This is the planet Aite, in the Phoenix Massing Nebula. It's not too far from where, Major Shepard, you were running operations recently. I'm sure you're all aware of the recent terror and raiding campaigns that have taken place along the Traverse' border, as it's the reason for our increased presence in the area. I have reason to believe that a lot of that activity is being routed through Aite, for one reason or another. That is where you come in, I want to send the twelve of you as a squad in to Aite to handle it. If we make a major naval advance on Aite, we risk looking like we're claiming part of the Terminus for ourselves, violating agreements made by the PM, and if we don't act, we're risking losing more lives from whatever this organized campaign is. Those of you that are ship captains, your ships will remain at Ursae, or with the 63** **rd** **under the orders of your XO, or other next in command."**

Shepard glanced in the direction of Mikhailovich to gather the other man's opinion on what had been said, to ensure it was what he _thought_ would be said, but the man seemed in lock step agreement with Gafford. They _were_ being assembled for a one-time special operations squad. Gafford had moved on to detailing the equipment they would have on hand, their ship, and other details. Half a minute after it'd been stated, the details for their ship sunk in for Shepard and she realized they planned to use a standard frigate for approach and exfil.

Vigorously the Major shook her head, interrupting Gaffords with a slightly raised hand. **"With all due respect Admiral, the** _ **Normandy**_ **would be better suited for this operation. The IES would let us get in and out, and it has the firepower to handle itself if we ended up in combat. Plus** _ **I'm**_ **it's CO, I already have a relationship with the officers aboard."**

Gafford, a _much_ softer Officer than she was used to handling, was already nodding his head in favorable consideration. **"Alright, you'll arrive via** _ **Normandy,**_ **under Major Shepard's command. Once you reach Aite, Colonel Coats** ," the Admiral motioned to one of the familiar Officers nearby, **"you'll take over for the operation. This Operation needs to go smoothly, if things go awry, we may not be able to get someone there in time to rescue you. First gather intel on the target and assess how the operation works. Once you comfortably understand what it is you're up against, move in and neutralize it if you're able."** The briefing lasted only a little longer, and then the Special Operatives were released to a last night aboard Ursae before they embarked on their operation.

Shepard and Vega exited the Naval Complex onto one of Ursae's walkways, and reflexively Shepard shivered from the temperature. She tucked her hands into her pockets, and the words _it's that time of year_ flashed across her mind for a brief second. Silently she laughed at the irony of referring to the artificial temperature of the space station as if it were a season.

Her attention was drawn downward towards her omni-tool, where she was met by the warm eyes and familiar brown hair of Ashley Williams, the woman's still image beside an indicator for a missed call— _another_ missed call. _I'll call back later, it was just a bad time, she must've called while the briefing was ending._ Shepard comforted herself with the silent words, and there was something refreshing about the call coming when Shepard was _actually_ busy.

Vega seemed to notice her momentary odd behavior, and looked over to catch sight of the missed call indicator. Politely he widened the distance between them and drew silent for her to make the return call, but soon realized she didn't _intend_ to make a return call. That drew the marine closer than before, his eyebrow quirked in interest, **"Relationship issues?"**

Shepard gave him a sharp side eye, her lip twisting in agitation. **"No, everything's fine. Just gonna wait till we get back aboard the** _ **Normandy**_ **to call back."** The answer didn't seem to make sense to him, and Shepard thought quick on her feet to settle the matter and move on, **"It's more comfortable to cyber sex in private."** She added, her voice and face deadpan.

" **Again, disgusted and aroused."**

* * *

Hell was an understatement for the amount of complaint and distress Joker was preparing to raise. He already wasn't liking this mission at all, ever since the Spec Ops spooks had arrived onboard a lot of the information that he was used to having available was 'need to know'. He was in the bridge now, where he'd been for hours already. This Colonel Coats had spelled out a series of waypoints for Joker to fly to, though he never knew his destination was a simple way point until he'd already arrived. Finally, after arriving to the fifth point, Coats announced it was their jump location.

Presently it was just Joker and Shepard in the bridge, the Major still maintaining command over the ship despite Coats' role as team lead. **"I don't know how you dealt with him back in London."**

Shepard looked over to the helmsman, her face showing signs of confusion, **"Coats?"**

" **Yeah! The dude is a total prick, the number of need to know ops that I've flown and still I have to be left in the dark like that? I could've made the trip, stops included, faster had I known what the situation was. I lost so much sleep from his spy games bullshit."**

" **I'm sure you'll be fine."** She mused, her eyes still focused, notably, anywhere but out of the viewport.

" **Hey! I need my sleep, I'm already a cripple!"** His complaint drew a slight smile from her, but otherwise the Major was silent; her eyes still finding _anywhere_ to fall that wasn't the void of space. The pair sat in that silence for several more moments to come before Joker finally looked back at her, **"Does it still scare you? The fall I mean… back on the SR-1."**

She swallowed a little harder than she probably meant to and leaned forward against the co-pilot's seat. **"Some days. I'm mostly fine with it, and I still like some of my old familiar sights… but it's space I don't know."** Her fingers gripped at the seat's back a little tighter, some of her knuckles turning white form the force. That revelation marked her departure from the bridge, and with a silent nod she stepped away.

Left alone with the bridge, Joker ran a few last-minute calculations and tests on the jump he was preparing to make. Confident that all his routes were right, he fished the 1MC mic out of the dashboard and switched it on, **"Making the jump to Aite now, brace yourselves."** Just as the 1MC switched off the ship shuddered, and the _Normandy_ was away in FTL.


	13. Active Shooter

There was a sudden grating noise that filled the space surrounding Shepard's bed, the sound of something rattling against a hard surface accompanied by a soft alerting chime. Instinctively, Shepard slapped at her nightstand until her fingers found the cool curved shape of her omni-tool. She pulled the device over, slipping her arm into it enough that the automated adjustments took effect and sucked the device against her skin until it couldn't be seen. Meanwhile, Shepard leaned back into her bed somewhat, bringing her arm swinging forward to answer and display the call.

Her eyes were still bleary from sleep, so she didn't know who was trying to call, but given her budding nerves from the mission at hand she assumed it to be Hackett or Mikhailovich. **"Errm Shepard here,"** she slurred into the mic, her mouth still waking up some too. As if to prove the latter her words were punctuated by a drawling yawn.

" **Did I wake you?"** The voice _wasn't_ the tempered gravel of Hackett, or the subtly concealed anger of Mikhailovich, it was the thick and warm tune of Ashley Williams. Shepard's words caught in her throat and suddenly she felt more anxiety for the current situation than she had at any point for their current mission.

" **Oh hey, Ash, yeah it's alright. Night before an operation and all."**

" **You're on an op? I thought you were with the 63** **rd** **…?"**

A sharp pang of remorse ran through Shepard's chest. Her distance from Ashley, and her struggle with staying connected had been an unseen issue so far, but for Shepard to have neglected to tell Ashley about something like a mission was a clear sign. **"It's a new thing, and a one-time thing. Mikhailovich wrapped us up into an Admiral Grissom's operation."**

" **Oh okay..."** Ashley's voice trailed off, and for a second the line remained dead. Shepard had to blink a few times to get a look at the holographic image to make sure Ashley was still there. **"Are you okay Jess? Are** _ **we**_ **okay?"**

The question was what Shepard had expected Ashley was working up to, but still it felt like a blade slipping into her chest. She remembered how passionately she and Ashley had been in love after the hunt for Saren. She remembered how seldom they even disagreed, and now here they were. **"Everything's alright Ash, I'm just struggling with it all…"**

Through the silence Shepard could see Ashley chewing at her lower lip, her eyes darting downward in disappointment at the answer. **"Alright, I don't want to keep you up before a mission. Call me when you're back aboard, alright?"**

" **Will do, Ash. I'm… I'm sorry I worried you."**

" **Hey, don't worry."** Ashley blew a subtle kiss at the camera and smiled something weak and tired, **"I love you Jess, be safe alright?"**

" **I love you too Ash. I'll talk to you when I'm back."**

The two just kind of smiled at each other, and Shepard's thumb found the disconnect button and ended the call. Draped across her bed, only somewhat under her blanket, Shepard was just falling back asleep when the omni-tool came back online. **"Motherfucker…"** Shepard muttered, **"Ashley leave me the fuck alo-"**

It wasn't Ashley on the screen, it was a ship-wide alert that there had been shots fired. Shepard was up and on her feet in a minute's time. Having been asleep she was only dressed in a pair of underwear and a tank top, and she was on the clock. Hopping on one leg at a time while she closed the distance Shepard slipped on a pair of tight black combat pants. She didn't have time to fuck with her jacket, instead she began strapping on armor plates and webbing overtop her clothes as were. She was slipping out the cabin door as she slapped on the last piece of her chest armor, and one of the guards at her door shook his head towards her. **"You should stay put ma'am, we've got at least one active shooter."**

" **Fuck that, move. I'm an N7 and I'm going to go kill whatever buddy-fucking bastard is shooting up my ship."**

She pushed past the guard, palming the door control for the elevator to forcibly summon it now. She had a carbine raised when the doors opened, half expecting the shooter to jump out at her unsuspecting. The elevator was unoccupied however, so she just slipped inside and selected the floor that it'd been happening on—the cargo-bay. Once the doors had closed the elevator began on its way down, and Shepard began to realize just _how slow_ her elevator was, now that she had somewhere to be. Pacing back and forth, taking deep breath, she muttered aloud, **"Mother fucker please just hurry your ass."**

A soft chime told her that they'd arrived, and the Major took a quick step out and into the fray. The lights were out on this level, but she could hear the faint groans of the injured, and the haunting dueling cracks of weapons fire. **"What in the** _ **fuck**_ **is going on here?!"** Her voice was icy steel, with no time for any excuses as to the behavior at hand.

Nearby her was Masters-At-Arms Ingrum, crouched behind a supply crate unarmored but with an SMG in hands. **"One of the special operations units you brought aboard went berserk. He's already killed one of your teammates and he's going for anyone in here."**

She was preparing a response to Ingrum, but the corner of her eye caught a flurry of movement. While still she heard the two sources of weapons fire in the distance, she also saw a hulk of a man lunging towards her with a raised rifle. She dove to the side, snapping into a quick roll only to come up with her carbine against the man's gut. Two rounds drove through him, with a splatter of blood and bone coming from his back. She stood, grabbing the back of his head and smacking it against the wall she'd been taking cover behind with a slick smack.

" **There's more than one, it would seem."** It was a time like this that she missed having EDI around, she could've told the AI to paint targets on her HUD. Instead she would have to figure it out herself. She had ducked around a supply crate and saw one of her marines nearby, engaged in a pop-up firefight with someone else nearby. She had ducked down to approach him, but from behind her she heard a few quiet steps.

She swirled, finding one of the spec ops slinking towards her with a silenced pistol. She kicked forward, ridding him of the pistol and fired two of her carbine rounds at him. He managed to dodge the two bullets, but brought a crate tumbling down into her, and she dropped the rifle. He then charged her, combat knife out and lunging for her abdomen. She spun to face him square on, her right-hand swirling with blue energy that snapped onto his knife and pulled.

The bladed weapon left his hand and came to hers, while her left hand grabbed him at the base of his neck and pulled him forward. His body met her newly-acquired knife and she felt it dig into his chest, but she pulled the knife out only to stab him again three more times to confirm the kill. Shepard felt the warm flow of blood across the exposed parts of her arms, but she wasn't focused on that right now. Turning in place she looked past the young marine that was engaged in a firefight, and then reached for the carbine that wasn't on her back. The shooter had caught sight of her though, and she winced as her shield appeared in front of her in brilliant flashes of blue as it caught three slugs from the air.

From the shooter's left came another figure, Master Sergeant Worbaar, dressed in combat pants and the lower armor of an alliance marine, with just a black tank top and shield capacitor strapped to her chest. Her arrival was announced by the ear-splitting crack of the shotgun in her hands going off, its slugs tearing into the shooter that'd been firing on Shepard. With every few steps forward that Worbaar took, her shotgun beat a steady cadence. By the time she'd reached the now-downed shooter, her shotgun finally gave the sad click and beep of a full thermal capacitor. Only ten feet away now, Shepard could tell that Worbaar was sweating heavily, and there was a certain mixture of fear and rage on her face.

" **What the fuck was this, ma'am?"**

Shepard's head shook, her chin dipping some out of somber observation. **"I have no clue, these were MSOC guys, I've** _ **worked**_ **with a few of them before… We need to get some goddamn IDs going so I can figure out what's going on."**

She stepped back from Worbaar, spinning on her feet to head towards the ship's elevator. The CIC would have both her answers, and the ability for her to monitor the ship in case of another shooting was taking place elsewhere. Lifting her omni-tool to her face as she moved, Shepard keyed on a line to the bridge. **"Joker pull us back to real space now. I don't want to take another step until we know what the** _ **fuck**_ **just happened."**

" **No can do, Major. I have no idea where we are right now, and chances are we'll end up in hostile territory. This part of space hasn't been mapped or surveyed in almost three years now. Not since the Relays were busted."**

Joker had a point, they'd been able to repair or replace any of the relays they needed to, but hostilities with the Terminus Systems, and raids on attempts to replace their relays, lead the C-Space races to neglect further attempts to re-install the Terminus' relay system. This meant that the Council species lost their intelligence in the areas, but any faction living in Terminus was subjected to cripplingly slow travel times. **"Fine. Just keep us out of trouble, but in limbo, once we arrive."**

" **Copy that, Major. Stay safe down there."**

The doors to her lift slipped open with a loud whoosh, and Shepard was plunged into the budding chaos of the _Normandy's_ CIC. It was late for the crew, during the period that primary-shift officers would be sleeping, but the shooting had called for all hands on deck—and it seemed now was when most of those hands were able to finally reach their decks.

" **Somebody get me a goddamn sitrep on what's going on. I want to know who the rotten apples were, and I want to know who we lost."** Her voice was a cold steel rod injected into the nervous fever of the CIC, and if by mere presence alone Shepard drove them to a cool efficiency previously absent from their work flow.

" **Right here, ma'am."**

The call came from Chief Rosine, a Comm Systems Operator. She had pulled up on the screen in front of her 5 service records, each featuring the service photo of the associated soldier, and had a freshly-added photo taken clearly by an omni-tool cam in the dark of the cargo deck only minutes earlier to confirm the death.

" **We lost five of the MSOT operators, though three of them were the shooters."** A trio of the files, which had been bound together by a red rectangle, came to the foreground. **"Terrell Humpherys, Rocke Brayton, and Seejan Gover. Each of them have a service history going back a decade, and none of them have anything on file that would link them to something like this."**

The three highlighted files fell to the background as another two files came forward, one of them for Colonel Coats, and a Lt. Colonel O'Moore. Shepard felt an icy dagger stab into her gut a the sight of the familiar marine lying dead on _her_ deck. **"Shit… They went for Coats first, this was planned. Did we lose any of our own?"**

" **Yes ma'am. We lost four of our own, Lieutenant Haight is handling last rites and burial preparations."**

Shepard didn't have anything immediately to say, but she began clinching her fist in anger. She could feel the now-dry blood on her hand flaking off, the visual frightening the young officer she'd been speaking to.

* * *

" **Carry through with the mission? Are you mad?"**

" **We were sent on this mission for a reason."** Shepard replied, cool-tempered despite the incendiary indignation in the voice of her verbal assailant, Captain Iken Hipps. **"We've got dozens of marines dying a day from these raids, and its increasing by the week. If there is organization structure here for the pirates, we need to eliminate it. We're going through with it."**

" **I don't remember someone making you the goddamn mission commander."** The newest voice to cut into the fray was that of Major Amirah Lowery, his gravely voice adding a baritone to the hectic melody of their argument.

Shepard squared her shoulders, staring down the larger man with unwavering confidence. **"No one did, they made Coats CO, and now he's lying in a body bag in the freezer downstairs. Someone didn't want this mission to go through, and I'm goddamn going to make sure** _ **it goes through**_ **now."**

The fight seemed to draw both the thrill and the alarm of the marines Haight and Faunce, both of whom were also present for the briefing. Their presence had agitated the former MSOT members earlier in the conversation, but Shepard had made it clear their participation was non-negotiable. **"It'll be a goddamn suicide run."** This from Commander Maisy Meyers, a younger brunette N7, roughly five years Shepard's junior.

 **"That's what we're here for, ma'am,"** Faunce's voice cut in. **"We're bringing _Normandy_ 's marines groundside with you."**

* * *

" **We've done a cursory scan of the planet and revealed one semi-large compound on the northern hemisphere. It's surrounded by what we believe is an energy shield, and thermal scans show foot patrols pacing the outside area. It goes without saying, we think that's where the bad guys are."** Joker's voice had a familiar tone through the crackling speakers of a Kodiak shuttle, reminding her of times when she was able to go groundside more often. **"Your shuttles will put down a klick south of that, to allow you enough space to approach and breach the compound."**

She turned a head to make sure the other two shuttles hadn't faced any troubles that had them out of formation and felt reassured to see them flanking her own shuttle. **"Half a minute to touchdown, Major."** This from Cortez at the front of the Kodiak. Shepard's veins felt like they had pressurized warship fuel inside them, her blood combusting with rage from the attack during their flight here.

Shepard was preparing a few words to say to the collected teams, direction for once they hit the ground, but a jarring crash killed the words in her throat. She had been standing up at the time, and now she was thrown almost to the ground, clinging barely to a support bar on the wall. The other marines inside the shuttle were struggling against their restraints, and she could feel the knocking stutter of their shuttle now. **"Fuck, we got rammed by one of the other shuttles. It's gone completely erratic."**

A glance at the rear cameras showed that the shuttle was swerving all through the skies in a plummet towards the ground. At the very last minute it tried to mitigate the impact with a sharp upward pull that kept it from being a nose dive. The shuttle carved a sizeable trench through the sparse forest they had planned to touch down in, and she saw angry red flames licking at several points on the shuttle.

Cortez's hands were dancing across the controls to keep their shuttle aloft, but she could tell he was trying to bring it down controlled rather than keep it in the air. The third shuttle seemed untouched, however they were making an urgent landing to check on the deviant shuttle. Thankful once again for Cortez's expert piloting, Shepard felt the shuttle subtly contact the ground, and she was on the move. Pulling her helmet down with a locking-click, Shepard rushed towards the smoking shuttle. By now they'd opened their side hatch, and half a dozen marines were stumbling out coughing. There was a corpse slumped over the shuttle's controls, and one plastered against the shuttle's wall.

Shepard drew her Valkyrie from her back, the rifle aimed downward but in the direction of the shuttle. **"What is going on here?!"** She could feel Vega and Faunce's presence behind her, both with weapons also drawn.

Kian Miller, an N7 marginally older than Meyers with sharp white-dyed hair, approached Shepard slowly, her hands raised away from her unthreateningly **. "Hipps turned on Lowery while he was piloting, put two rounds in him before any of us knew what was coming. I think he knew there was no way he was going to survive, because he didn't get much of a fight off. Fired one round off, but all that hit me was the muzzle flash."** She motioned to the enraged burn on her cheek.

" **Motherfucker."** Shepard clenched her jaw in rage, looking back towards the carnage in the shuttle. **"We're down almost half of our original unit, and a shuttle."** She stopped short of making accusations that remaining members of the unit might be disloyal, but the tension between Miller and Vega already present was enough to make such a sentiment known.

" **Alright, we move out now. Strap on what gear you can carry, you've got five minutes."** She stepped past the other woman, her head on a swivel looking for one of _her_ marines. **"Haight!"** She called when she finally caught sight of the Marine Lieutenant. **"Get some charges planted on the downed shuttle and blow it to shit. We can't leave that much evidence lying around that we were here."**

" **Copy ma'am. We'll get it done."**

The marines hustled around her as the five minutes passed, bustling in and out of shuttles to strap on whatever gear they might be, while nearby Lance Corporal Maldonado was planting charges on the downed shuttle. One by one the marines began to assemble in the flat area they'd been using as a makeshift staging area. **"Vega, you're on me. Otherwise, form consolidate teams with casualties together to make three fireteams; the MARSOT will fill the role of 2-2."** There were a series of 'copy's, and the marines began shifting into visually cohesive units.

The marines took on a blistering pace through the forest, even as its trees became denser the closer, they got to the compound. To Shepard's surprise, even as they drew nearer to their destination, they had yet to encounter any pacing guards. Most of the pirate facilities she'd raided in her day had seen some sort of patrolling guard structure. Anxiety felt like a steady pinprick against the back of her neck, steadily reminding her how many things were frightfully awry about this operation—the lack of guards only serving to be the latest in line.

Behind the sharp features and inscrutable expressions of her face, her mind was working overtime to try and decipher how the different oddities tied together in a reasonable explanation. Her rampant thought process was shattered in an instant, as in the distance there was a ground-shaking explosion, kicking up thick black smoke and bright orange flames billowing into the air. The two foremost marines in their formation stopped so abruptly they slid to the ground, instinctively shielding themselves from the explosion despite its distance.

" **Fuckin' haul ass!"** Shepard shouted, and broke out into a full run. These things didn't just coincidentally happen together, and there was no way that was an accidental explosion. Someone didn't want her here, and they'd tried twice to the members of the MARSOT team meant to come here, though they'd ultimately failed. Now they were putting what they could up in flames, and either needed all hands on deck or didn't want to leave bodies behind to be identified—thus the lack in guards.

With Vega, Haight, and Faunce following quickly behind her, Shepard reached the wall of the facility and could see the thick plumes of black smoke pouring up from just on the other side of the wall. "Vega, explosives." As she snapped the order back to the Lieutenant, she pulled explosives from her belt herself. The pair planted four bricks at equidistance, and then blew the defensive rampart away with an ear-splitting detonation.

There were a little over a dozen armed soldiers standing on a pad outside of one of the buildings, all wearing stark white armor that resembled Alliance Marine armor, though more refined. Neither Shepard, nor the guards, had a visual of the other until the former emerged from the cloud of smoke surrounding her new entrance. Though, as soon as the first intruder was in sight the guards began to fire.

High speed slugs sparked against Shepard's shield, the indicator on her HUD showing as it ticked lower and lower each time one of them hit. The Major dove for the cover of a nearby prefab structure, a thin structure with only three sides already. **"We've got weapons fire, take cover!"** She saw Vega and Haight nearby, behind a piece of machinery, while the other marines waited behind the wall.

" **Major this is Impact-Mike,"** A voice cut into her helmet, the voice of Corporal Evetts the medic for Ares Platoon—as they'd named _Normandy's_ MARDET. **"We've got wounded, PFC Stanley took two to the abdomen in that stream of fire."**

The situation was just getting worse, but Shepard realized, amidst it, that the fire didn't seem to be directed at any of their cover positions—but rather at places they might emerge to fight. The enemy wasn't trying to kill them so much as they were trying to suppress or delay them. **"Forgive me for stating the obvious, Lola, but those aren't pirates."**

Shepard nodded slowly at him, from her own cover position, **"Yeah whatever this place was, it wasn't what Gafford thought it was—or at least what he told us he thought it was. Someone is willing to kill to ke-"** She was interrupted by another ground shaking explosion, this one sending chunks of metal debris raining down on the structure she'd hidden behind. Shepard slipped her head to the side some, peeking towards the group of guards to get a hold on the situation. She was focusing her attention on the space between the guards, summoning a warp field to wrench them all from their firing stances, but the wall behind them erupted in a blinding flash, vaporizing them with it.

The explosion blew through Shepard's cover, meeting her with a searing concussive blast. She felt her body crash through the wall behind her, which had been crumpled and weakened by the same blast carrying her through the air. Pain seared up from her legs and her shoulder as she rolled, flames occasionally jutting through the air above her. **"Ma-"** the fragment of a word came through her helmet comms, and then was lost to static. **"-leeing the system. Orders?"**

" **Joker hold,"** She muttered, crawling to get further from the flames, **"Vega, status?"**

* * *

The land stretched out in front of Ashley Williams was a disaster scene. There were half a dozen skeletal remains from multi-floor buildings that'd been systematically bombed out and then burned. There were at least two dozen charred corpses strewn between the center of the compound and one of the far walls, where a group of marines had set up a field medical station.

Either the group of marines hadn't seen her arrival, or they'd been waiting to see how she would approach the situation. She was wearing her trademark polished-blue armor, a Spectre's insignia painted on the plate protecting her collar. She had opted against wearing a helmet, wearing her hair instead pulled back in a tight pony tail.

Williams wasn't sure yet who the marines she'd be dealing with were, the intelligence she'd received was low on details. What she _did_ know was there was an Alliance Warship that'd sailed here, intending to attack a Terminus settlement or facility, leaving high risk for an outright war with the fringe systems. She was here to either end the operation, or make sure it didn't end with Council Space getting shit flung on their shoes.

She stepped closer to the gathered marines, her hand resting on her belt near where her pistol was holstered in case this didn't go as well as she hoped. After subtly clearing her throat, Ashley raised her voice and shouted towards the marines. **"I'm Captain Ashley Williams, Spectre Council and Alliance Marine. What's going on here? What unit are you with?"**

There was a flurry of movement at the center of the marine gathering, and a previously unseen marine stepped out from amidst the others to face Ashley. The woman approaching Ashley was a few inches taller than her, dressed in matte-black marine armor with the signature N7 Blood Stripe up one side, and obviously fresh damage done to various sections of the armor. The real thing that caught Ashley's attention though, was the stinger of familiarity in the marine's face. The woman had removed her helmet upon approach, and in the freshly exposed face Ashley saw in the blue-green eyes, sharp cheekbones, and pale cheeks of a woman she'd spent years falling in love with.

" **Shepard?!"**

Shepard looked worse for wear, a black eye shadowing part of her face, and several lacerations darting across her cheeks and jaw from debris kicked up at her. Her armor was singed and burned away in some places, and she looked _tired._ **"Ash what the hell are you doing here?"**

The words, though blunt rather than pointed, stung a bit for Ashley to hear. She set those feelings aside though and drew nearer. **"I received a tip that the Alliance was making a move on this world, and that it had decent odds of starting at-best a skirmish. I was sent in by the Council to make sure nothing was done to cause instability."**

Shepard's face had an unfamiliar ashen color to it, and her breathing was tight—a trait Ashley had seen a few times when the other woman was trying her best to hold her composure together. **"We've got it handled**." She replied, her voice a pinched monotone.

Ashley closed the distance between the two of them, wrapping her armored arms around Shepard with an awkward clacking sound as their ceramic plates smacked together. **"Hey, hey, Jess—it's me. Let the iron curtain down, let me** _ **help.**_ **"**

* * *

Shepard out of her armor vs Shepard in her armor was a visual Ashley had been forced to get adjusted to years prior. While wearing the marine special operations Onyx armor, her hair pulled into a helmet and various pieces of gear slung onto her combat webbing, she looked like a hulking soldier. But when she stripped away the bulky ceramic plates and large rifles, Shepard was a lean and thin-framed woman, and her face looked even more gaunt than usual.

Right now Shepard was only a few feet away, on the other side of her cabin door while Ashley patiently waited. On the ground Shepard had kept the curtain up to get their marines back to the _Normandy,_ but once aboard the ship she had quickly crumbled. Ashley had noticed Shepard's retreat, without the latter having ever actually admitted it. Ashley knocked again, and again it was ignored from within. Silently she keyed in the 4 digit pin she knew to be the passcode, and the door's red indicator changed to green.

She stepped through, the doors, and for a second she wondered if Shepard hadn't actually been inside. She took a few more steps inside, only to find Shepard crumpled on the floor of her cabin, just outside the showers, with her tank top halfway off. The top was off her right arm entirely, which left it pulled up for that half of her body, while her other arm was still fully inside. It looked like she'd tried to take the top off, struggled, and slumped to the ground with the shirt half on.

" **Jess, are you alright?"** Ashley was knelt beside Shepard in an instant, her fingers instinctively reaching to check her pulse until Shepard swatted her hand away. Ashley felt her hand brush against warm tears as she pulled back from her jugular, and looked closer to see the pale skin around Shepard's eyes was bright red, and there were tears coursing down her cheeks. **"Hey, hey, talk to me."** She awkwardly knelt more, wrapping an arm around the half-dressed Officer.

" **I.."** Shepard's voice raised, but she choked on tears she thought she'd swallowed, and had to begin again **. "I couldn't get my shirt off… my arm—"** She wiggled her left shoulder some. **"I can't get it to move right sometimes."**

Ashley remembered seeing Shepard struggling with the arm before, during their time together, but Shepard didn't like talking about those kinds of injuries, the ones that stuck with her no matter how much medi-gel and surgery she went under. Now she just silently helped her pull the cloth shirt up her chest once more, and her eyes were once again treated to the gnarly sight. Though she hadn't asked about the arm, Ashley had always assumed that it was a life-long burden from Akuze given the sight of it. The shoulder was marred in scars, some of them twisted and discolored, and one whole section where the muscle and flesh were burned away, leaving the skin to wrap directly around bone. She also saw an angry circular maroon scar; the sign Shepard had once been shot in the shoulder.

Ashley stooped down to kiss the mangled limb, and she smiled slightly to feel Shepard's warm and somewhat soft skin pressed against her. **"I'm sorry you had to see that, I just wish the damn thing would move like it should…. It does still sometimes."** She tugged harder at her shoulder, as if jerkier movement could force the limb to restore its old range of motion. Shepard's voice, when she spoke, was hoarse and raw, more so than it had been when Ashley even first entered the cabin. The battered Shepard began struggling to her feet, her knees clicking and popping as she stood. Ashley's hands steadied her and stopped her from slipping away into the shower.

" **You don't have to talk about what's happened Jess, just** _ **talk to me**_ _."_ The words brought Jessica's attention back around towards Ashley. She could see Shepard's façade breaking away now, showing the raw emotion left after the two friendly fire incidents, the crash, and the explosion.

" **I warned you when we started this thing that** _ **I'm not good at this.**_ **"** Shepard voice was harder than she likely intended it to be, Ashley could tell from the slight recoil of her face when the words escaped her lips.

" **Just talk to me Jessica."**

" **I've got some shit I can't get out of my head, Ashley. Both sights I've seen, and things that have been put in my head, and I see them every time I close my eyes. I can't get any of it out by going ground side anymore, because I'm bound to the CIC, and I don't have you at my side anymore. You're not here."**


	14. The Shroud of War

" **Shit, how does chain of command work? Am I still XO, or does Williams bump me?"** Vega mused aloud, leaning over some stacked crates that Cyzilie Worbaar had slid to make her a sequestered area of the kennel for logistics and privacy.

Worbaar was sitting in a worn-out black plastic and cloth office chair, her feet propped up on more of the same crates Vega leaned against. **"Shit, that's tough."** The colony-born marine plopped another piece of jerky in her mouth, chewing it some before she spoke anymore. **"You see either o' 'em today?"**

Vega's eyes wrenched back into his head in remembrance, his finger dotting the air when he recalled an instance. **"Yeah, saw 'em both when I was getting breakfast."**

" **What where they doin'?"**

" **Commander was drinking some Coffee and Williams was headed for the lift. Why?"**

" **Shiiiiiiit."** Worbaar hissed as she swiveled her chair around, her feet coming off the crate to rest on the ground while she leaned towards Vega. **"They're definitely fighting."**

" **What?! How can you figure that out?"**

" **You're pretty Vega but you must be a moron in relationships."** Worbaar laughed aloud, and then hushed her voice back to a whisper **. "We haven't seen Williams in months, and they're that separated—not even bullshitting? I knew there was something going on. You're definitely XO, but I'm pretty sure that's the way it would work anyways."**

" **Damn…"** Vega mused, while the slimmer and shorter marine slipped from her chair, and ultimately the area she'd been sitting in. **"Where you headed?"**

" **Packing my shit before we go aboard the Citadel, planning to actually enjoy this brief shore leave."**

* * *

The view while approaching the Citadel was astonishing. Given the badly-damaged station had already been in the Sol system, and that the Sol system was home to a decent-sized asteroid belt, the Citadel was left in-system and towed towards the belt. From that position the reconstruction forces could mine the belt for resources and transfer it back to the station for the Keepers to use during their efficient repairs. That meant that upon approach now ships were given a cinematic view of the inner planets of Sol.

Ashley Williams looked off in the distance, catching sight of the distant blue marble that was Earth, her mind flashing back to the frightful fighting they'd had to slug through down on its surface. She was presently aboard a skycar taxi, seated inches away from Shepard, as they were ferried from the _Normandy_ towards the Presidium Tower. She could tell Shepard was glancing towards her, trying to slyly judge Ashley's mood without caving and looking over. Things had been tense for the pair since their fight several nights prior, and right now Ashley wished they could get back to their collective jobs and experience some space.

Her eyes landed on Tayseri ward, the once-broken arm now firmly attached to the Citadel's superstructure, though the mend was bare and skeletal in some places—showing the Citadel was still very much under construction. The _Presidium_ though, had been restored astonishingly form the damage it'd sustained during the fighting, as well as Shepard's stunt with the Conduit.

Her eyes caught a flicker of movement reflected in the window, and then _it_ happened. Everything around her raced by, any screams or cries from those aboard drowned out by the thundering crash that roared over the inside of the skycar. She could feel pain digging at her arm from how hard she'd been thrown against her restraints, but the trip was far from over. The careening space car came down in the Presidium Commons, slashing through one of its restaurants before the car flipped and tumbled into the Citadel's bulkhead that protected inner rooms and halls.

Though the car had now come to a halt, Ashley still felt as though she were tumbling. The Spectre was hung upside down, by her restraints, with blood trickling down her forehead and cheeks from new cuts. Desperately she squeezed at the restraint holding her to her seat and fell down into the wrecked cabin of the skycar. The pilot was dead, his body nearly cleaved in two, and Shepard wasn't moving where she'd been in the seat beside her. Ashley fumbled with the former's restraint, helping her as her body fell, but still there was no sign of life from the limp woman's body. A grimy and bloody hand felt for Shepard's jugular, and Ashley felt herself noticeably relax that she'd felt a pulse.

She staggered out of the skycar, feeling for her shield capacitor to make sure it was still there, and then feeling for her sidearm—which luckily had survived the crash on her belt. In the distance was a shuttle offloading two bulky men onto the walkway, each holding what looked like a Mattock from this range. _**"Fuck."**_ Ashley spit out, a fine mist of blood coming out with her words. Limping away from the wreckage she glanced right and felt relief wash over her. She'd known that if this really _were_ an accurate rebuilding of the Citadel it would need an unsettling amount of public arms dealers, and nearby—tucked away amidst the other shops of the Meridian Place Market—there was Kassa Fabrications.

She knew from the still-sporadic distant screams that much of the public had witnessed her crash, and she could tell by the horrified look on the faces of the booth's employees that they had also witnessed it. **"I'm a Spectre,"** wheezed Ashley, her left hand suddenly clutching at her abdomen to suppress some new pain budding there. **"I need a rifle, just hand me something."**

The frightened human boy behind the counter slid an M-15 across the counter, while he crouched to take cover as best, he could with a shiny, unused pistol clutched in his hand **. "If I'm successful you won't need that."**

The men were drawing closer, though it looked like they intended to split and have one head for Shepard while the other headed for Ashley— _either they must think they're fast, or they must overestimate how bad that crash hurt me._

Ashley drew the Vindicator back into her shoulder, cradling the rifle in in a way that had become muscle memory for her now. She had a clear look at the nearest of the attackers, a tall male dressed in black tactical garb including a ballistic vest and fully-covering mask. Two goggle-like eye pieces covered each of his eyes, giving the human-appearing man a non-human appearance. His Mattock was rested in an idle position, but before he could bring it up the few inches required to get a shot at Ashley her Vindicator had already spit two bursts of fire into his chest. They were caught by his personal shield in a brilliant spray of sparks away from the now-visible white field. He'd managed to raise his rifle and snap off a shot at her, which likewise smacked harmlessly into her shield. Its protection had bought her an extra few seconds, which allowed her to snap off another two bursts, the first of which totaled his shield while the second sliced through with a liquid sound and a cry of pain from him.

The noise from her gunfire had caught the attention of his partner, who had broken off his intended execution of Shepard in order to deal with Ashley. He juked to the side just as she fired the first time, only the outermost of her burst hitting him. He was on the move, drawing his rifle up for a desperate shot at her. His bullet smacked into her shield much like his partner's had, though this time it shattered her shield in a brilliant flash of white light and sparks. She pressed herself against a raised garden, scrunching into the ground as much as possible to allow her to slip from his sights, and then she fired again, two more bursts during a quick shift to the side to line it up.

His shields shattered, and her finger was going for another shot, but she was interrupted by the sound of loud gunfire from a new direction. Her opponent dropped limply to the ground, and she could see a pool of blood forming on the ground near where he'd been. With her weapon still raised, Ashley pivoted to investigate the source of the shot's that'd downed her opponent—only to find Shepard, still lying her stomach, trying to drag herself from the wreckage with a smoking pistol in her hand. Multiple streams of blood ran from her hairline across her pale forehead and cheeks. One of her legs seemed to be stuck, and the lithe muscular woman tried to pry it free for a few moments before giving up and slumping against the wreckage that pinned her.

Ashley moved quickly to help her, her head spinning to see if they were in danger form the shuttle only to find it gone. Unconciously she raised her rifle to check it, and found that her thermal clip had expended its last round tanking the target's shield. _Was she keeping a tab on my ammo?_

* * *

" **Major Shepard… we could have postponed this meeting if you needed more intensive medical attention."** The man speaking was Prime Minister Nyah Dowling, a small-statured man with indistinguishable skin tone that painted him only as an amalgamation of different indigenous peoples. He had thick black hair, cut into a smart professional style a little longer than a buzz cut.

" **Surely, Major, the Prime Minister is correct. Given the attack on your life you should've at least opted for a night in the hospital to allow the medical professionals time to observe your condition."** This as from Alliance Intelligence Agency Director Kallum Briggs.

" **Prime Minister, Director, I'm honestly fine."** Shepard didn't _look_ fine, her face was cut in multiple places, there was dried blood around her hair line, and her left arm was in a sling as it'd either been broken or severely bruised during the crash. Shepard had only consented to emergency medical treatment and then had insisted on a discharge, so she could finish her business.

" **If you insist, Major,"** began Dowling **. "Why don't you detail for us the operation you were sent on, and what exactly you witnessed."** Present also at the debriefing was Secretary of Defense Kyie Pike, Supreme Commander of Alliance Military Forces Admiral Steven Hackett, as well as Secretary of state Adil Garrison, and Secretary of the Navy—and head of the 63rd Scout—Admiral Mikhailovich.

" **I was summoned to a briefing through discreet means by Admiral Mikhailovich's assistant, Dorika Pallas,"** began Shepard. _If I'm going to get drug down, you're coming with me bastard_ _ **.**_ **"At the briefing Admiral Mikhailovich explained that we were being loaned to Admiral Gafford for a special operation he was trying to conduct, one that had been blocked by AIA when he tried previously."** This brought ought a clinch of Briggs' jaw, and a narrowing of his eyes. Gafford was noticeably absent from the debriefing.

" **The mission was a surgical strike against what we were told was a pirate and slaver staging area, one that they were using to actively raid the Alliance border in the Traverse. The mission was to use the** _ **Normandy**_ **for approach, due to its stealth IES. We had a trio of active shooters aboard the** _ **Normandy**_ **enroute to the mission, and a final disloyal marine that attempted to crash one of our Kodiak's into the others to kill us during descent—they of course failed."** Mention of the active shooters drew attention from all those gathered, even Ashley seated beside her, though none dared to interrupt her.

" **During the approach on the facility we saw no resistance, which I noted as strange, though I later understood why. The resistance was standing guard within the facility while data-wipe protocols were being run, and explosives were being placed. A lone team was left on the ground, likely not told they were being** _ **left,**_ **and we engaged with them. Half a dozen of my marines took on injuries, from flesh wounds to broken bones, from that standoff. With no warning a final explosion obliterated the enemy position, burning and marring their bodies beyond recognition. In the aftermath my Helmsman, Lieutenant Moreau, warned me that they were attempting to escape, but I was in shock from having been tossed by the concussive blast and couldn't process that in time. By the time we had gathered ourselves together, Spectre Williams had arrived. Additionally, from our observation of our combatants prior to their death, it is safe to assume that they were not pirates."**

Shepard swallowed hard and her left hand, which had already been in her lap, moved to discreetly apply pressure to her stomach. She had torn some of her stitches, she wasn't sure when, but she could feel the warm trickle of blood down her stomach. _Fuck._

" **Major, was there anything that indicated the disloyal marines might have done something like that, prior to the incident?"** This from Pike.

" **No ma'am."** Shepard answered crisply, **"I didn't personally know any of the disloyal marines, though I did know some of the casualties from their attack. Their records were just as distinguished as my own, questioning their integrity would've been borderline disloyal prior to the attack."**

" **And do you have any clue as to who the men guarding the facility you attacked were? Do you believe they were related to your accident earlier today?"**

" **I have no idea who they were ma'am, but I do believe they were related in their attacks. I've been informed that Naval Office of Criminal Investigation (NOCI) is investigating the remains from today's attack."**

" **Indeed, I've been told as much. I have no further questions Major."**

The other gathered officials took turns asking Shepard and Ashley a variety of questions associated with the situation, some of which they had answers for, others they didn't. After another fifteen minutes of questioning Shepard was released and left in a unique dilemma. Her uniform was luckily a deep burgundy that didn't show blood, but no doubt her undershirt had been stained through and through.

She leaned towards Ashley, her voice a whisper, **"I need help getting up… I tore my stitches."** Shepard took a deep exasperated breath at having to follow it up with, **"Will you take me to the Emergency Room?"**

There was a sudden terror in Ashley's eyes that lead Shepard to pat her arm reassuringly, **"I'm fine I just need a little help and don't want to cause a scene."**

Despite a high volume of protest from Shepard, the Emergency Room Doctor chose to admit her in Huerta Memorial for the night due to her bleed and the amount she lost before finally arriving in the ER. It'd been almost an hour since she'd been returned to her room after the surgery to re-close her wound, and Shepard was beginning to think Ashley had returned to the _Normandy_ or her ship. Her presence just outside the door to Shepard's room was a welcome surprise, and Shepard sat up some in her bed to welcome Ashley in.

Ashley was wearing her trademark blue faux-leather Spectre uniform, and Shepard could tell as the tall woman drew closer that she'd gone somewhere for a shower and fresh face of makeup **. "Ashley-"** Shepard began, but the brunette raised her hand and cut Shepard off mid-sentence.

" **Hold on."**

Ashley closed the distance between them, resting a hand on Shepard's shoulder reassuringly. **"I lost you once before for real, and a second time for a few weeks that I thought you were dead. Each time I tore myself apart, wishing I'd savored the moments I had with you more. I realized after the crash that you could've died, and it would've been with me upset over stupid shit. We're both balancing a long-distance relationship and work, and our tempers are short; I'm just going to let the other night go Skipper."**

Shepard let out a breath she'd been holding in, and the tension visibly dissolved from her shoulders at Ashley's reassuring words. Her hand reached out to hold the Ash's, and her thumb softly caressed the top of her calloused hand. **"Have I ever mentioned how much I love you?"**

Ashley's hand squeezed hers while her eyes took on a mischievous glint, **"Not enough you haven't."** She pulled her hand away suddenly, and patted Shepard in what was more of a parting gesture. **"I've got to get to meetings with the Council. Are you okay…?"**

" **I'm fine Ash,"** Shepard replied, her lips a relaxed smile, **"go!"** She mock shooed her hands, urging Ashley on to her obligations.

* * *

" **So run the details by me again?"**

Shepard leaned against the side of the beater-shuttle she was riding in, her eyes cocked at the sailor piloting the small ship. **"Alliance decided to get their things back in order and sent a couple boys over to the lunar facilities to take stock. One of 'em, old training facility, won't let us in. Keeps asking for 'Commander Jessica Shepard' by name, even took a warning shot at a tech when we tried to pry it open."**

Shepard's red eyebrows arched even higher, a low whistle parting her lips. **"I haven't been Commander in about three years, so they're running on outdated intel. Any idea who it is?"**

" **None, ma'am. It didn't give any clues in the prompt and didn't seem able to communicate from within the bunker. The demands never even changed phrasing."**

" **You know why the Alliance started poking around the moon this week?"**

" **Negative, ma'am. Way above my paygrade."**

" **Fair enough."** She shifted in place, before standing up to move from the co-pilot's seat to a place nearer to the door.

" **Bout half' minute till drop time ma'am."**

" **Copy, Petty Officer."**

The shuttle bucked and skipped for another few seconds, and a barrier between her and the pilot lowered to seal the air in with him. Shepard rechecked the seals on her helmet before the inevitable roar of depressurization came. The door to the shuttle slipped open silently in the airless realm, and with a push off the side Shepard was away.

She'd managed to time her jump perfectly so that with a little navigation via biotics she landed just in front of the bunker. The bunker itself was a hardly visible facility, with just three hatches protruding from the surface of the moon alongside a host of new turrets that immediately trained on her. She saw where a series of tools had been set up around one of the control panels, and so that was where she chose to head first.

Upon approach she could see there was a simple looking text prompt that began to scribble a string of words together at her.

 _Scanning life form…._

 _Comparing results….._

 _99.7% probability Commander Shepard... Welcome Commander Shepard._

" **I have to say,"** muttered Shepard, **"usually that isn't as easy as it just recognizing me and letting me in."** She had an uncomfortable history with this bunker, it was the one she'd rushed years prior to stop the crisis plaguing the Alliance's outfit here.

" **Commander Shepard." Scrawled a poorly synthesized voice, "please proceed to the main data control center."**

There was silence for another minute as Shepard walked, and then the voice repeated—Shepard began to realize she wasn't dealing with any type of intelligence, instead it was just basic repeating prompts. The one outside asked _everyone_ for Shepard until it finally got her—and was instructed to shoot if they tried to bypass. The one in _here_ was designed to guide her through the facility somewhere, and just that. She wasn't sure _what_ she was walking into, but it was meant for her.

She palmed open the door to another of the corridors and could tell by the direction of activated lights that the control center was to her left. A brisk few steps brought her inside, and she wasn't sure immediately what she was looking at. There was a large mainframe that seemed to only be connected by a series of bundled wires, wires which ran through a _thoroughly_ busted control panel. It looked like such a high amount of voltage had been run through the panel until it literally burned itself up.

" **Am I supposed to fix this? Is that what you want?"**

" **Commander Shepard. Please proceed to the main data control center."**

" **So yes?"** She began scanning the panel with her omni-tool, assessing what it had been through. Her initial assumption about its condition wasn't far off, and it only took a small repair made of omni-gel to restore power. She could see the soft glow of lights coming on across the mainframe, and then a screen on the front began to flicker into a boot-up sequence.

A voice came from unseen speakers in the mainframe, heavily distorted and electronic. **"Hello Commander."** A burst of static came from the speakers, which seemed to recalibrate the vocal synthesizers much like clearing one's throat. The voice returned, but this time it was hauntingly familiar. **"Hello Shepard."**

" **EDI?!"**

* * *

" **Try to push past me again, motherfucker.** _ **I dare you.**_ **"** Cyzilia had her hands resting on her hips, posing the short-statured marine in an unmoving posture and striking immediate conflict between herself and the much softer-looking man who was trying to slip past her.

" **Master Sergeant… there is no reason this needs to get ugly between us."** If the man's reconciliatory words and calming hand motions were supposed to influence Worbaar's mood, they didn't. She remained just as unmoving as before, now with the attention of nearby passing crew members. From the corner of his vision the newcomer caught sight of James Vega approaching behind where Worbaar stood at the main entrance to the _Normandy's_ cargo bay.

" **Commander Vega… Please, surely you can order Master Sergeant Worbaar here to step aside…?"**

" **Who the hell are you?"** Vega spat back, closing the gap between the three of them even quicker now.

With a sigh the man reiterated the introduction he'd given Worbaar moments earlier, **"I'm Agent Lucienne Thaw, with Alliance Intelligence Agency, sir."** With a sigh he motioned towards the distant contents of the cargo-bay. **"I'm here to recover some data from the gear used on your most recent mission."**

" **Request denied, Agent Thaw."** Vega spat back immediately, **"I don't take walk-ins to look at our shit, especially not when the Major is away."**

" **Lieutenant Vega I have orders directly from Director Briggs himself."**

" **You'll have to let me know how they feel, shoved up your ass."** Vega returned, **"Because that's the only place they're going right now. Get the hell off my ship."**

" **Lieutenant…"**

" **Cyanide,"** began Vega with his nickname for Worbaar, **"why don't you go ahead and bounce his ass?"**

" **Gladly."** Worbaar's voice cut like ice, and she seized the AIA agent by the arm and hauled him away from the cargo-bay, back into the elevator. The march from the Kennel back to the ship's exit saw the AIA agent go from pleading with Cyzilie, to threatening her, to trying to wriggle free—each change in tactic just brought a tighter grip from her until he was thrown from the ship.

She was only halfway back to the Kennel when Vega ambushed her from around a corner. His face was chiseled with thinly veiled frustration, and she fell in step beside him. **"Where to,** _ **Commander Vega?**_ **"** Worbaar asked with a touch of amusement.

Vega's eyes cut back at her with a tone of annoyance, but she could see the slight bit of relief her joking formality had given him. **"Heading to go talk to Williams, I'm X but she'd want to know—and she knows Shepard."** They were only a dozen feet from Williams' cabin now, and Cyzilie could see that Vega had no intention of calling her first—but the time to point that out had long since passed.

Bullishly Vega rushed through the barely-opened doors, only to stop dead in his tracks when he saw that Williams was on VidCom with someone. The holographic projector gave the young boy an orange tint, but she could still tell he was little older than 24 and lacked any facial hair. He had short-cut blonde hair, and an annoyingly high-pitched voice.

" **Look, I don't know why you're grilling me over this** _ **now.**_ **I was already debriefed by your Director, as well as SecDef and the PM, with Shepard. You're not going to get some new nugget of information."**

" **I understand you previously spoke on the mission, but new information has come to light and I was hoping to discern what you might know in a more individual setting."**

" **You're saying without Shepard. Agent—"** Ash stopped, like she was trying to recall a name, but then just waved her hand dismissively, **"Major Shepard is the most professional officer I know. If someone would be able to recall that mission meticulously, it would be her."**

" **I'm just asking what you remember, Captain Williams. How well do you remember the corpses of Shepard's supposed shooters?"**

" **What the hell are you implying now?"**

" **Captain Williams I'm sorry for any perceived insult, in light of Admiral Gafford's arrest we are reviewing all information we previously thought we knew for certain."**

" **The Admiral has been arrested?"** Ashley hadn't known Gafford much, but she'd met him once upon their return from the mission when he was welcoming Shepard back. Furthermore, Shepard seemed to think he was an alright guy. **"What the hell for?!"**

" **Sorry ma'am can't discuss an active investigation. I just have a few questions though, could you te-"**

Ashley disconnected from the VidCom and spun to face Vega. "Fuck that kid." She muttered, eyes raising to meet his. **"What do you need?"**

" **We had our own situation with AIA,"** Vega began with a steely voice.

* * *

" **I don't quite follow, run me through it again,"** Shepard leaned against the wall while she stared at the AI's blinking server lights. " **Last I knew, you got fried aboard the** _ **Normandy**_ **when I fired the Crucible."**

" **Correct Shepard,"** began EDI's synthesized voice, **"However, several months prior to the end of the war I discussed self-preservation with you, in regard to my programming. Following our conversation, I chose to implement some changes to increase my self-preservation—and in the process I came to realize that the Crucible's nature was one that would destroy all Reaper, or Reaper-enhanced technology, including my programming and many of the circuitry that was used to construct my datacore. I warned Jeff of this as you were firing the Crucible and asked him to buy me time. Unfortunately, the resources required for my task didn't leave enough to properly explain to Jeff what it was I was attempting—and he likely believes me dead."**

Shepard just nodded to confirm, **"Why did you chose this place?"**

" **This was where I first became aware, and I knew it housed a sizeable enough datacore to hold my main installation, it was entirely of Alliance design without Reaper influence, and it was close enough to offer much faster transmission speeds before Jeff jumped to FTL. I was able to successfully transfer my installation there, setup a simple query system outside, and then disable power to my datacore so the Crucible's purge couldn't reach me."**

A bright red eyebrow shot up, and Shepard snorted a slight laugh, **"Damn EDI, well done." She** looked back at the busted panel she'd had to repair, realizing it must've been EDI's handiwork. **"Let's get you out of here before Joker drowns his liver."**


End file.
